


Living - Snapshots and Snippets

by Tori_Scribbles



Series: Living [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Amputee!Darcy, Angst, Anti Ian Boothby, BAMF Darcy Lewis, BAMF Jane Foster, Canon-Typical Violence, Chronic Illness, Culver University, Disability, EDS | Elhers-Danlos Syndrome, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, I seriously dont like the guy, Implied/Referenced Depression, Loss of Limbs, Multi, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Nightmares, Physical Disability, Protective Natasha Romanov, Sexism, Sexual Harrasment, Sleep Deprivation, Steve is the best boyfriend ever, Tags will be added with each chapter, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:12:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6387256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tori_Scribbles/pseuds/Tori_Scribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of little oneshots and snippets relating to 'Life Is Hard', 'Storms In Life' and 'Life Is Short'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Robin Hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What? Natasha would have shot him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm FINALLY getting around to post this.  
> It's really terrible because I wrote this five times and I'm still not totally happy with it, but here you go...  
> Each chapter of this is going to be an individual one shot or snippet in no particular order.  
> This is set a couple of days after the Battle of Puente Antiguo.
> 
>  **Chapter Edited:** 7th October 2017

**June 5 th, 2011. Puente Antiguo, New Mexico.**

“The usual, Darcy?” Tommy asked with his usual creepy leer as I pushed myself up onto a bar stool, my hand automatically going to massage my thigh as the muscles cramped.

“Yeah, please,” I said, sagging against the bar with a slightly weary sigh.

I’d spent my entire day chasing after Jack Booted Thugs who didn’t respect the words _personal space_ or _don’t touch me_ and it was exhausting.

“Those feds still hanging around?” Tommy asked, pouring out my drink.

“That’s one way of putting it. Do you reckon I can sue them for harassment?” I asked curiously as I looked around the bar.

Across the bar a group of guys in suits were playing darts, their ties loosened, sleeves rolled up and jackets slung across the backs of chairs. A woman was sitting alone in the corner, every few minutes her eyes would sweep across the room; her focus snapping to any sudden noise or movement.

I flinched slightly at the hand on mine, pulling it out of Tommy’s grip I reached for the drink he’d just sat down.

“Thanks,” I muttered, knocking the shot back with a slight sigh.

As soon as I set the glass down, Tommy swept it away and it was replaced by a bottle of beer.

“This one is on the house,” he said with a not so subtle wink and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him.

I gave a nod in thanks, wrapping my sleeve covered hands around the bottle as he stepped away to serve another customer.

Glancing up as the door opened, a vaguely familiar guy came in. He definitely wasn’t a local. This was, after all, the sort of town where everybody knew everybody. He was dressed casual, no suit, with short, dirty blond hair and shining blue eyes.

As he sat down a few seats over from me, the door opened again, and Agent Coulson went and joined him, wearing a crisp suit as always.

“Son-of-Coul,” I said with faux enthusiasm, “come to return my iPod?”

“I’m afraid not, Miss Lewis,” he replied, with a hint of almost amusement in his tone. We'd had this conversation three times today alone.

“I’m pretty sure that was part of the deal with Thor; that you returned _all_ of the stuff you took from us. Not just the sciency stuff,” I said.

A loud cheer went through the bar and I jumped, pressing my fingers into the cold glass of my bottle as I took a breath.

Coulson glanced over at them scathingly but the other guy just raised a curious eyebrow at me.

“It was,” Coulson said, _“but_ for the sake of national security, we have to review all data on _all_ electronic devices that you, Doctor Foster and Doctor Selvig own. Considering you weren’t as forthcoming with your devices as the others, we deemed it necessary to pay closer attention to what we have.”

“But I—”

Coulson smiled pleasantly. “We traced that fake ID you made Thor back to a laptop registered to you. When we seized your possessions, we found no laptop,” he said.

I took a sip of my beer to cover my smile, thinking about my laptop which was currently stashed in Alex’s apartment, above their garage.

“You really think me, a Poli-Sci student, could damage national security; with an iPod. Is that a compliment or an insult, I can’t tell,” I said, tilting my head to the side as if contemplating it.

“Compliment,” the blond guy said and Coulson rolled his eyes, gesturing for Tommy for two beers.

“Either way, I plead the fifth at the existence of a laptop,” I said.

The blond dude snorted and I suddenly realised why he looked familiar, he was the guy who had been wandering around on rooftops with a bow and arrow.

“You’re the Robin Hood dude,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Robin Hood rolled his eyes like he’d heard this a million times before but next to him, Coulson actually cracked a grin.

One of the guys playing darts cheered, for some reason the tone of his voice made my skin crawl and I winced slightly as the others all joined in his laughter.

“Agents,” Coulson barked, drawing everyone’s attention effortlessly, “keep it down.”

There was a lot of muttered “yes sir,”’s and “sorry sir,”’s before they went back to their game, the noise level a lot quieter than before.

“Sorry about them,” Coulson said, looking back to me and I shrugged.

“I’ve seen worse,” I said. “Soldiers on leave. They’re all quite good compared to some.” My mind drifted back to Jake and Mike, how at the base before anyone had to say anything, you could tell if it was a good or bad tour just by how heavy the air was. Shaking my head I smiled slightly. “It’s better they’re like this than the alternative.”

Next to me, Robin Hood raised his bottle in agreement. “You serve?” he asked.

“Nah,” I said with a shake of my head, “I failed my medical. My brothers currently in Afghanistan though. What about you? Did you have a military life before the Men in Black swooped you up?”

“Army.” He nodded. “Three tours.”

I swirled my bottle around, watching the liquid inside twist and flick before tipping back the last mouthful. As I set the bottle down, Tommy seemed to take that as his cue to saunter back over, leaning against the bar in front of me with what he probably thought was a casual action.

“So, Darcy,” he said and I forced myself to take a breath and not slam his head into the bar. “Any plans for tonight?”

“I’m working. But, anything’s possible,” I said, “Land of enchantment ‘nd all.”

“How ‘bout you take the night off,” he said suggestively.

“Tempting,” I said, a faux sweet emphasis in my voice. “But no thanks. I will, however, take another beer?” I slid my empty bottle towards him pointedly.

He scowled slightly, snatching the bottle off of the bar, tossing it in the recycling he pulled another from under the bar. He twisted it off the cap, before dropping it onto the bar with slightly more force than necessary.

I gave a sarcastic smile of thanks before turning back to the two Agents who were both looking at me curiously.

“So, when are the Men in Black clearing out?” I asked, pointedly ignoring Tommy who was still leering in front of me.

“A couple of weeks,” Coulson replied. “Just to make sure the clear up goes smoothly and to ensure nothing else happens.”

_To ensure no Asgardian’s come back and torch the town._

“So, Darcy,” Tommy said and this time I didn’t even try and hide my irritation, clenching my jaw in anger, I looked back up at him with a sigh. “Are you and Alex still a thing? Because I gotta say that’d be pretty hot. I wouldn’t mind getting in on that.”

He reached his hand towards my face as if to brush a strand of hair away but I was quicker.

I grabbed his wrist, twisting it around, I slammed his arm against the bar, pulling the rest of his body with it. Not listing to his cry of either surprise or pain as I reached for my taser. Aiming it towards his stomach, my finger itched to pull the trigger but my mind stopped short at the sounds of bullets being chambered around me.

Keeping Tommy’s arm pinned to the bar, I glanced around the room to see all of the Agents, except Coulson, had drawn a weapon, but the surprising part was that they weren’t aimed at me; but at Tommy.

“What the hell!” Tommy cried, trying, and failing to pull himself up.

“Miss Lewis, as much as he might deserve having his arm broken or being tasered; I really must protest,” Coulson said, taking another sip of his beer like this was just his everyday evening entertainment.

“I don’t,” Robin Hood said with a slight shrug. “Just ya know, if we’re taking a vote.”

“You’ll be filling out the paperwork,” Coulson said mildly and Robin Hood winced, with an apologetic look at me, he holstered his weapon. Waving his hand at the other Agents and they followed suit.

“Miss Lewis… Darcy? Can I call you Darcy? Miss Lewis seems really formal and official. I’m really not good with formal or official, just ask Coulson” he said, leaning against the bar casually.

“He’s not,” Coulson put in.

Clint smiled slightly.

“Darcy is fine,” I said through gritted teeth, tightening my grip on Tommy’s arm, pressing my taser against his chest as he went to move his other arm towards me.

“Right then Darcy. The guys a dick, we all know that, and if you let him go, nobody will ever mention this again and although Tommy will lose a tonne of business we can pretend this never happened. _But,_ if you taser him or break his arm he’ll probably say it’s assault and even if S.H.I.E.L.D. sweeps him under the rug like we tend to do; that is still _a fuck tonne_ of paperwork that I will have to fill out. And if I have to do it, security clearance be damned, I will make you do some of it too,” Robin Hood said.

Considering my options, I let go of Tommy’s arm with a glare and he snatched it away, rubbing his shoulder with an angry look as I slid my taser back in my pocket.

“Fucking psycho bitch,” Tommy spat.

Before any of the Agents could stop me, I leant across the bar. Grabbing a handful of his hair, I slammed Tommy’s head against the bar, not hard enough to do any real damage but hard enough that he’ll have a hell of a headache in the morning.

Twisting his hair tighter, I leant closer. “No doesn’t mean convince me, asshole,” I snapped and then pushed him away, not caring as he stumbled back into the shelves behind him.

I downed the last mouthful of my drink, tossing a couple of notes on the bar to cover my tab and looked over to Robin Hood and Coulson with a raised eyebrow.

“I think we can turn a blind eye,” Robin Hood said with a slight smirk.

“Thank you,” I said, “for your consideration.”

I gave them an exaggerated polite smile before heading towards the exit.

“What?” Robin Hood said as I pushed open the door. “Natasha would have shot him!”


	2. Lot's of Kids Are Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just because some people lose an arm or a leg, or aren’t born with one. It doesn’t mean that they should have to pay a thousands of dollars to have one. We don’t have to pay thousands of dollars to have a leg. Why do these people?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this takes place between chapters 21-22 and is just one of the first little moments between Pepper and Tony, with a little more about Tony's relationship with Darcy.  
>  **Edited:** 7th October 2017

**December 26 th, 2012. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.**

Pepper sat in the labs, only half paying attention to Bruce who was drawing another vial of blood and Jarvis updated him on her vital signs, instead, her focus was on Tony who was standing a few feet away, fiddling with a hologram of Darcy’s prosthetic. He held a small device up to it, then pulled it away; adjusting a screw then holding it up again with a frown.

“What are you doing?” Pepper asked softly, watching as he repeated the action for the third time. Tony looked over at her and shrugged slightly.

“It’s a–a thing for Darcy’s leg. She attaches it to the top part and it’ll make her leg look… not metal, so if she wants to go somewhere in the summer or something and doesn’t want it on show, she can cover it. I was running calculations while I was in Malibu. I think we’ve got it right this time,” he explained; though as Pepper watched him talk, she noted the lack of spark in his eyes that he always had when he was talking about a new invention. Holding out her hand, she beckoning him closer.

He stepped up in front of her, sliding his hands into hers, neither of them commenting on how light her touch was.

“You do so much for her,” she pointed out softly.

“She’s a good kid,” he said with a half-hearted shrug.

“Lots of kids are good. You don’t build all of them prosthetic legs that cost millions of dollars and just give them away for free, _and then_ keep adding to them,” she said.

“But they shouldn’t _be_ millions of dollars,” he stressed. “Just because some people lose an arm or a leg, or aren’t born with one, it doesn’t mean that they should have to pay thousands of dollars to have one. _We_ don’t have to pay thousands of dollars to have working limbs. Why do these people?”

“They shouldn’t,” Pepper agreed with a soft smile. “How would you feel about designing more? Or getting Stark Industries R&R department to look into them? We can afford to give some to children’s charities or the VA.”

“Children couldn’t have a leg like Darcy’s. The transformer wouldn’t be safe as they grew, it could do nerve damage,” he said, tilting his head to the side curiously, “but if the converter was made of the same structure as the rest of the leg. With the right calculations, you’d be able to make the converter more flexible to give you a certain amount of leeway with a growing room. It’d have to be adjusted maybe once a year and maybe have more plates added into the joints so they’d stay the right size. It’d be easy enough to adapt.” He shrugged slightly.

“The Maria Stark Foundation is having its annual New Year’s Ball,” she said. “You’ve not been since before—” she waved her hand in a vague gesture. “—everything. Why don’t we all go, and we can take that opportunity to announce Stark Industries new line of research in robotic prosthetics.”

Tony considered it and nodded. “It’s a good idea,” he said. “It’ll be good for the media, a whole reassurance thing, let them all know that things are going back to normal and we’re all fine and everything is going back to normal.”

Pepper’s smile widened, but before she could say anything Jarvis interrupted.

 _“Simulation complete. Serum accepted,”_ he announced.

Across the lab Betty made a small sound of triumph, hugging a grinning Bruce tightly.

“It’s not a cure,” Bruce said. “This will just stabilize the Extremis effects. You’ll have to learn to control it. You’ll have more energy, your metabolism will be higher and such. Parts of the super soldier serum did work and you will feel those effects. So it’s going to take time.”

Pepper nodded, holding her arm out so Betty could push the needle into her arm, as she pulled away and the serum worked into her bloodstream. They all watched as Pepper’s skin glowed a brilliant fiery red for a moment and she gasped; feeling the burning heat settle into a more comfortable warmth, and as the heat faded, her skin faded back to its natural, pale colour.

Pepper sighed, awe and disbelief mixing together. “It’s amazing.”


	3. She Deserves A Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven floors down was Thor’s floor, neither Jane nor Darcy took the elevator to work when they were together, but it wasn’t Jane who constantly walked with a limp...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really short piece that I wrote ages ago when I wrote Chapter 6 - There's Always A Catch. So this is Pepper's POV after Darcy tells Tony and Bruce.  
>  **Edited:** 7th October 2017

**July 20 th, 2012. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.**

Pepper was stepping out of the elevator within five minutes of Bruce’s call. Without a moment’s hesitation, she walked down the corridor, interns and assistance hitting the walls so she could pass. Once she reached Tony’s lab, she punched in her override code, only now hesitating as she stepped inside and the door slid shut behind her.

The click of the lock seemed to echo around the surprisingly silent lab. No ostentatious rock music to silence, no loud machines. Tony looked up with a dark look on his face, clearly ready to tell whoever was disturbing him where to go, but when he saw it was Pepper his features softened slightly and he went back to work.

Pepper took a minute to scan the lab, looking for any hint of what caused the look of anxiety and hurt on her partner’s face; except she found nothing.

“Tony?” she questioned, but Tony made no indication of even hearing her speak and Pepper sighed. Stepping across the room and into his bubble to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder as she looked down at what he was working on. And what she saw just confused her even more.

He was scrolling through a Google images page of prosthetic legs.

“Tony, what’s going on?” she asked, running a hand through his hair, letting him lean into her side as he gathered his thoughts. After another minute, he looked up at her, more in confusion than anything else.

“Her leg, Pep. It’s beyond basic. It’s painful. _Literally_ causing her pain and never once has she mentioned it,” he rambled. “Bearing in mind that she’s claustrophobic so _never_ uses the elevator, she walks up seven flights of stairs just to get to the labs _multiple times a day.”_

Pepper’s brows furrowed in confusion as she mentally did the math. Seven floors down was Thor’s floor, currently Jane and Darcy’s. Neither Jane nor Darcy took the elevator to work, always waiting so they could take the stairs together. Jane was always adamant that Darcy had to go with her but-but it wasn’t Jane who constantly walked with a limp…

“Oh my God,” Pepper breathed as realisation clicked in place, she looked back down at the research Tony was doing. “Darcy has a prosthesis?”

Tony nodded. “And it’s basic. It’s _beyond_ basic. It’s the cheapest possible one you could by roughly ten years ago. Four years ago they stopped making them all together because people realised that they did more harm than good; there was a scheme to replace all of the ones in use but for some reason, Darcy never got a replacement,” he explained, his mouth moving a mile a minute. “I’ve looked into it and there are options. To build her a simple, painless replacement would take me about an hour. _But,_ I’ve looked at designs and I think I could easily come up with something solid, something that wouldn’t need to be taken off every day. I’m pretty sure I could even get full movement.”

“Hold on, slow down a second,” Pepper interrupted firmly. “Does Darcy know you’re planning this?” she asked.

Tony shook his head. “I only found out a couple of hours ago.”

“Then sure, build her a top of the range leg. But you have to talk to her first. She deserves to have a say in this,” she said, her voice softening towards the end, reminding him gently that not everybody thought him building something was the obvious choice.

Tony seemed to consider this and as he realised she was right like he often did; he nodded.

“Jarvis, buddy, where’s Darcy?” he asked.

 _“Miss Lewis is in her apartment with Doctor Foster,”_ the AI replied.

“Go and talk to her,” Pepper said, brushing her hand across his cheek. “I have to get back to work.”

She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, as she pulled away she let their foreheads rest together for a moment before she stepped back. With one last smile, she turned, heading straight back the way she came.

As the elevator doors closed, Pepper sighed.

She knew Tony _could_ make a perfect prosthetic, but she wasn’t totally certain that Darcy would take it if she thought it was charity.

Just this once, Pepper prayed that she was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said this is super, super short.  
> 


	4. Two steps forward, five steps back.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you get any reports relating to Ian Boothby, let me clear things up. Yes, I kicked the crap out of him. Yes, he knows who I am. No, I will not be making any sort of apology."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is set in the middle of Chapter 35, after Natasha sneaks out of the apartment and when they board the Quinjet.  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Canon-Typical Violence, Revenge, Natasha being Natasha.  
>  **Edited:** 7th October 2017

**November 5 th, 2013. Greenwich, London.**

Natasha slid through the bustling London streets, dodging strollers and cyclists, her phone pressed against her ear.

“I still don’t have a visual, Jarvis,” she said, not even trying to hide the impatience in her voice as she scanned the crowds for any sign of her target.

 _“Take the next left,”_ Jarvis instructed and Natasha complied. Darting down the alley, she pulled herself over the chain link fence with ease.

Turning into another alley across the street, her eyes landed on _him._

“I have eyes on my target. Disable all security cameras in the vicinity,” she said, not waiting for a response; she cut the call, sliding her phone back in her pocket. She waited a moment, watching as the little red lights on the CCTV cameras all blinked off in unison before making her move.

She jogged across the street and slid into the alleyway.

“Hey man!” she called out in a flawless English accent.

The guy stopped walking and looked around, an arrogant smirk on his face as he blatantly looked her up and down.

“What can I do for you, Sweetheart?” he asked.

“That depends,” she said with a flirty smile. “What’s your name?”

“Ian,” he said, “Ian Boothby.”

_Target Identified._

That was all the confirmation she needed. Reaching out she grabbed the front of his jacket, slamming him back against the wall; hard.

“Whoa! What the fuck?” he cried out, more in surprise than pain.

“Aw, I thought you liked it rough,” she said with a faux pitiful look, slipping smoothly back into her American accent. “Or do you only like it rough if you’re the one hitting girls around?” she asked, pressing her forearm into his throat.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, his eyes wide, confused and scared.

“S.H.I.E.L.D, codename Black Widow, perhaps you’ve heard of me? I’m currently based in New York. I live two floors above Darcy Lewis, we share a gym,” she said, watching in satisfaction as the colour drained from his face.

“Look, it was just a misunderstanding. I don’t know what she’s told you but-”

Natasha cut him off with her fist hitting his face.

 _“That_ is for kissing her the first time without her permission.” She hit him again, listening as his nose cracked and blood started to run down his shirt. _“That_ is for kissing her a second time without her permission.” She hit him a third time, letting him crumple to the floor. _“That_ is for trying to kiss her a third time when she clearly didn’t want to be anywhere near you.” She pulled him upright by the lapels of his jacket and she hit him a final time, watching him fall back into the filth. “And _that_ is for the mark across her face,” she spat.

Standing back upright, Natasha smoothed down her jacket, inspecting her bloodstained fists for a moment before looking back down at him with a cold look.

“You don’t _ever_ contact her in any way again. Don’t _ever_ tell anybody about her or what happened over the last couple of days and don’t you dare touch another girl after she says no again,” she said, her voice deadly calm. “If I find out that you have done any of those things; I will be able to find you. Do you understand?”

Ian nodded vigorously, not even trying to stop the blood running down his face.

With a hint of satisfaction, Natasha turned on her heels, going back the way she came. Sliding out of the alleyway, she disappeared into the commuters, getting lost in the crowd as she headed back to the apartment.

Natasha knocked on the door, careful not to leave any blood on the white paint. Thor opened the door with a grim look. He raised a questioning eyebrow and she nodded in return. Trusting her judgment he nodded back, letting her slide past him, blocking her from view of the couch until her hands were hidden in the sink. Careful to leave no trace of blood behind, she turned back to face everybody with faux enthusiasm.

“Are we all ready to go?”

.

Natasha helped them load up the Quinjet, hesitating at the car with the two Agents whose names she didn’t know, watching as Clint distracted Darcy with something on board.

She turned to the Agents with a hard look. “If you get any reports relating to Ian Boothby, let me clear things up. Yes, I kicked the crap out of him. Yes, he knows who I am. No, I will not be making any sort of apology,” she said simply. Ignoring their stunned looks she turned and walked up the ramp, sliding straight into the co-pilots chair, strapping in next to Clint.

“How’d you leave him?” he asked quietly, his eyes fixed on the sky as they took off.

“Alive,” she said simply.

“That’s more than I would have done,” he muttered with a dark look.

“Oh, I truly thought about it,” she assured him, not doubting that her partner wouldn’t have left him breathing. “We can tell Cap it’s been dealt with.”

Clint inclined his head and she glanced back over her shoulder at Darcy who had the uninjured side of her face pressed against the window, an icepack pressed to the other. With her headphones and a faraway, pained look in her eyes.

Natasha thought back to how she’d flinched back from Clint on the balcony and sighed.

_Two steps forward, five steps back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you still hate me?


	5. To Get Up Off My Ass. To Live.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You do make it better,” He promised. “You make it easier every day,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is totally random and I have no idea where it came from. It was 1 AM and it wrote itself... 
> 
> **Chapter Warnings:** Implied/Reference to Depression and Grief.
> 
>  **Edited:** 7th October 2017

**February 19 th, 2013. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.**

“How’d you do it?” I asked, my quiet voice breaking the comfortable silence we were laying in, Steve curled around me from behind as we looked out over the city.

“Do what?” he asked softly, his breath tickling the back of my neck.

“Get up each day?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. “You woke up not even a year ago, to _nothing_ familiar. You lost everybody and everything familiar and I don’t understand how somebody can get over that.”

I regretted the blunt words as soon as they’d left my mouth. I opened my mouth to apologise but the hand on my waist squeezed me slightly and cut me off.

“They don’t,” he said, “or if they do get over it, I’ve not figured out how yet.” He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Before the war, after my Ma died, it was just me and Bucky, no matter what I was doing; he was always there. He was all I had for years. We were in an art class when we heard. We listened to the reports of Pearl Harbour on the wireless and… And two days later we enlisted, or at least we tried.

“They wanted Buck, they always wanted Bucky, I don’t blame them, but me… I was a ninety-pound asthmatic who couldn’t tell the difference between red and blue, I could only hear out of one ear and that isn’t even half of it. I was a liability. If a cadet walked into S.H.I.E.L.D. in the condition I was, I couldn’t safely put them in the field. I got left behind while Bucky got his orders and shipped out to London with the 107th and I met Doctor Erskine the same night. We wrote to each other constantly, though I never told him that they took me too, I never told him I signed up to be a walking science experiment God, he was so mad when he found out…” Steve trailed off for a moment and gave a slight laugh.

“When I got to Italy and found out that he was MIA… that was worse than anything else, even losing my Ma, because when I lost her I still had him. Peggy and Howard helped me save him, save all of them I suppose, and from those men came the Howling Commandos. Serving beside them, was an honour.

“We went out on missions and we all knew that any one of them could be our last. But we went anyway, and we always came back until… until one of us didn’t. Buck fell and—and I should’ve done something, _anything,_ but I didn’t—” Steve broke off with a strangled noise.

I turned in his arms, my heart clenching at the sight of his tear stained face and an utterly broken look on his face and I realised that this was probably the first time he’d ever really spoken about this.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said softly, brushing his hair back.

“How would you know?” he snapped, then deflated when he realised what he’d just said.

“Because your relationship with Bucky went down in history. You _loved_ him, Steve,” I said before he could apologise and Steve looked up at me sharply, confirming every theory I ever had regarding the nature of their relationship. “It’s okay,” I assured him. “You loved him and you would have done everything you could to save him and he knew that. Bucky was there because he chose to be there. He knew the risks and you have to respect his choice.”

Much to my surprise, Steve laughed.

“You know,” he said, sitting up slightly, “someone else once told me the exact same thing.”

“Clever person,” I said with a slight smile, shifting so my head was resting against his chest.

“Oh, she was. They would have liked you,” he said, stroking my hair back behind my ear so he could see my face. “Bucky and Peggy, the rest of the Commando’s too, even Howard, who Howard was back then at least. They’d have really liked you.”

Something warm surged inside of me. The thought that the most important people in Steve’s life would have accepted me; liked me even; well, that meant a lot.

“But I don’t know,” he said and I looked up at him in confusion. “I don’t know how I get up each morning. I just know that I have to. You help, the team, everyone here helps. Besides, I know Bucky ‘nd Peggy would tell me to get up off my ass. To live.”

As he looked down at me in, I tried to give him a comforting smile.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “That you lost everything, and that I can’t make it better, _and_ that I brought it up.”

“I don’t mind you bringing it up. It hurts, but it’s nice to talk about them. And you do make it better,” he promised, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “You make it easier every day.”

I sighed, letting my head rest on his chest. Letting the steady beat of his heart lull me to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, short and totally random. Also, I'm working on a longer snapshot, before Gods dropped into Darcy's life, with Jake and Mike. That should appear soon.  
> Lemme know what you think?


	6. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I understand. Oh, fuck... I understand!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this a couple of weeks ago, but totally forgot, so I'm sorry for the delay!  
> This is set a couple of days after Clint's party (Chapter 32)  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Talk about Dubious Consent, Talk about drunk sex.  
>  **Edited:** 7th October 2017

**January 9 th, 2013. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.**

It had been two days since Clint’s birthday, and memories of the night were slowly coming back to me. As I remembered the end of the night, I couldn’t even look at Steve without being flooded with humiliation, and to make things worse, he seemed to notice that I was avoiding him.

Which is how I ended up hiding in the gym, trying not to put my metal foot through yet _another_ punch bag.

I heard the doors slide open and then closed, but made no move to turn around. It was probably just Clint coming to insist I took a break.

“Hey Doll.”

I faltered slightly at Steve’s soft voice but didn’t turn around, instead, I just threw another, particularly hard punch.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly.

I hesitated slightly. “About what?” I asked, careful to keep my voice flat as I twisted around to kick the bag. Twisting back down, I went to hit out again, but a soft hand on my arm made me stop.

“About what happened the other night,” he said, gently turning me to face him, “after Clint’s party.”

Heat flooded my cheeks and I ducked my head, suddenly finding the straps on my hands rather interesting.

“I’m sorry I was so drunk,” I said, shuffling uncomfortably.

“I’m not angry because you were drunk. I’m not angry at you at all, Doll. You have absolutely _nothing_ to apologise for here,” he assured me, his thumb ghosting across my cheek made me look up and frowned. Steve hesitated for a second. “Do you remember what you told me the other night?” he asked.

I paused, my frown deepening.

I remember dancing, then stripping, then trying to strip Steve. I don’t remember any details, and definitely no coherent words.

After a moment of consideration, I shook my head.

“Your exact words were: ‘Guys don’t care. Guys like it better when I’m drunk.’” he said carefully.

My eyes widened in horror and I stumbled to step backwards, wincing as my back hit the punching bag.

“I—I—” I fumbled for an excuse but my mind came up blank.

“Darcy, Sweetheart, I’m not mad at you, I promise,” he assured me. Reaching out, he brushed my hair over my shoulder before I could reach for it. “But you know that that’s not okay, right? You told me before, that you only ever had sex with men after you’d had a few to drink. Is that… Is that what you meant? That you were drunk?”

The humiliation and shame that had been chasing me for days finally caught up and my eyes burnt. With my gaze fixed on the floor; I gave the slightest of nods.

Steve took a sharp breath, he hesitated for a minute before seeming to force himself to take several deep breaths. After another beat, Steve took a step forwards. Slow enough that if I wanted to move away, I could, but I didn’t. I let him slide his arms around me, drawing me close to him, burying his face in my hair.

“Do you understand why I wouldn’t sleep with you that night? Why I didn’t just go along with it?” he asked, his fingers combing through my hair while his other hand rested on my waist.

I wanted to nod, to say that I understood; assure him that we didn’t need to have this conversation… but I didn’t understand; not really.

Tensing slightly, I shook my head. The gesture was so slight that I hoped he wouldn’t notice. But as Steve sighed; I knew he had.

He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of my head before pulling away slightly. He gently guided me over to the table, lifting me up with ease so that I was sitting on the edge and he was standing between my legs.

“Darcy, the other night you were so drunk that you _still_ don’t remember half the night. When you’re that drunk, it has the same effect on your body as if you were drugged. You didn’t understand what was happening, not really. And you _cannot_ consent to something if you don’t understand that it’s even happening,” he said softly.

My face scrunched up in confusion as I looked up at him, still not understanding what he was getting at.

He sighed again, tucking my hair behind my ear so he could see my face.

“Darcy, I care about you and I _respect_ you. I am never going to do anything to you that you aren’t 100% okay with, and if you’re drunk or drugged or don’t understand what’s happening, then you can’t make a comprehensive decision,” he said.

My eyes flickered back and forth from my hands to his gentle patient expression as realisation seemed to dawn on me.

“Do you understand, Doll?”

A single tear slid down my cheek, and then another fell, and another.

All of those men… in all of their bars…

I nodded, choking back a sob as I reached towards him. Steve pressed himself closer, his arms coming around me in a strong sense of security and safety as I buried my face in his shirt and just kept nodding.

_I understand. Oh, fuck… I understand._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DO NOT HAVE SEX IF YOU ARE DRUNK! DO NOT HAVE SEX WITH A DRUNK PERSON UNLESS CONCENT HAS BEEN EXPLICITLY GIVEN BEFORE THEY'RE INTOXICATED!  
> TALK ABOUT CONCERNS IN A RELATIONSHIP! COMMUNICATE WITH YOU SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S)!!  
> 


	7. I'll Take Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’m not saying that you have to take Darcy on. But she’s an amazing student, her grades are flawless, she’s a quick learner, and she’s had it rough. She deserves a break..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm having issues wrapping up tomorrows chapter (IT'S HAPPY I PROMISE!) but I managed to get this short snippet finished, so I thought I'd post it now.  
> I think I need to re read this entire story, so I can sort it all out again.  
> So... Introducing Jane Foster.  
>  **Edited:** 7th October 2017

**December 5 th, 2009. Willowdale, Virginia.**

Jane burst through the door to Doctor Ross’ office, wincing at the sight of the applicant already sitting at the desk waiting for her.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, tossing her bag onto the floor as she dropped into Betty’s chair. “I was up late last night trying to fix my telescope. Then I overslept this morning, my train was late and the shortcuts we used to use on campus have now all been cut off. I had to ask for directions.” She broke off with a heavy sigh. “Sorry,” she repeated, holding out a hand for the girl to shake. “I’m Doctor Jane Foster.”

“Darcy Lewis,” the applicant said, as they shook hands. “Six credits short of the Doctor title.”

Jane smiled slightly, using the second she caught her breath to take in Darcy.

She was young, younger than the other applicants. Her thick brown hair hung in natural looking waves past her shoulders, but it was the dark circles under tired looking eyes that caught Jane’s focus. Even Jane pulled more all-nighters than she slept didn’t look that bad.

This girl clearly didn’t have it easy.

“Well, I’m hoping I can help you with that,” she said, digging a ring binder from her bag, passing it across to Darcy. “I’m basically looking for an assistant, but with my current funding I can’t afford to pay you, but I can at least help you graduate.”

“When you say assistant, what exactly would that entail?” Darcy asked warily, flicking through the folder.

“I’m currently based in a small town in New Mexico, you’d get a trailer to yourself to do what you want with. It wouldn’t be much…” Jane trailed off with a slight shrug.

“I’ve had worse,” Darcy said absently, her eyes fixed on the papers and Jane wasn’t even sure she was meant to hear that.

“I’d need you to organize data, make coffee runs and such; all simple stuff. When you’re not doing anything, that time is your own to do what you want. It’s not much, but it’s… it’s not bad,” she said.

Darcy nodded thoughtfully. “I take it you’ve read my medical file,” she said.

Jane shook her head in confusion. “I don’t have access to that without your permission,” she said.

Darcy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Huh,” she said simply. She reached down, pulling a brown paper file out of her bag, passing it across the table. “You might wanna read that before you consider accepting me. Everyone else had.” It wasn’t hard to hear the bitterness in her voice.

Jane frowned in confusion but nodded. Taking the folder she skimmed over it, trying not to let the surprise show on her face.

_Amputee… Prosthesis… Chronic Fatigue… Easy dislocations… Chronic pain…_

Jane snapped the file shut, her eyes automatically flickered to Darcy’s left leg that was covered by her jeans but shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m not going to decline your application because you have a disability. If you come to New Mexico, I will do everything I can to help you and make sure you have everything you need. I’m not going pity you either, Miss Lewis. You’re almost graduating with a PhD, you have amazing grades and you’re at least a year ahead of the rest of your pears. You’ve accomplished more than a lot of able-bodied people do at your age. You don’t need my pity and I’m pretty damn sure you don’t want it.”

Darcy’s eyes widened slightly in surprise but she smiled.

“Thank you,” she said, before closing and handing Jane her ring binder back. “I’d like to apply for your internship, Doctor Foster.”

Jane grinned brightly, taking the folder.

“Jane,” she corrected lightly.

“And Darcy,” Darcy said in turn.

Jane’s smile didn’t waver. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Darcy.”

“Likewise, Jane.”

.

Darcy left a half an hour later and Jane gathered up all of her things, shoving them all unceremoniously back in her bag as she stepped out into the corridor where Betty was waiting.

“And?” she prompted, falling into step with the astrophysicist as they headed towards the canteen.

“She’s good.” Jane nodded. “I like her.”

“But…” Betty nudged.

“But, she’s not qualified. I’ve had half a dozen applications, all with at least an actual science degree. She’s a Poli-Computer-Sci, I don’t get why she wants to work for me and when I asked she just shrugged, insisting that it was just because she wanted a change,” Jane said with a frustrated sigh.

“Darcy applied to six other internships, all more in her area of expertise,” Betty informed her softly.

Jane stopped short in the middle of the corridor as realisation dawned on her. “But none of them would accept her because she’s disabled.”

Betty nodded.

“I’m not saying that you have to take Darcy on. But she’s an amazing student, her grades are flawless, she’s a quick learner and she’s had it rough. She deserves a break and if you aren’t in a position to give it to her, that’s okay. Miss Grayson from Stark Industries is also interested,” Betty said with a pointed look.

“But Darcy doesn’t want to work for a weapons manufacturer, especially one suspected of dealing under the table with terrorists while her brother is fighting in Afghanistan,” Jane said in understanding. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “I’ll take her.”

“And the other applicants?” Betty asked, pushing the Canteen doors open.

Jane’s lips quirked into a smirk. “What other applicants?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry if this sucks, I'm not great at 3rd Person.


	8. Moving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have fifty different lipsticks that will end up spread across the bathroom counter and they’re all red."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next snippet has arrived!! It kinda got a bit off topic, but oh well!  
> I've been wanting to write it for ages and I've finally gotten around to finishing it.  
> This is set between Chapters 32 and 33.  
>  **Edited:** 7th October 2017

**February 22 nd, 2013. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.**

“I vote today to be a pyjama day,” I said, rolling over to look up at Steve with pleading eyes.

_Don’t go to the gym. Please don’t go for a run. Just say yes, please say yes and let us just chill._

“I’m pretty sure to have a pyjama day, you actually have to be wearing pyjamas,” he murmured, his hand sliding pointedly down my side and over the curve of my bare ass, just letting it rest there.

I bit my lip, pressing myself further into his hand. “I don’t have any here,” I said.

There were socks, underwear, a toothbrush, toiletries, a couple of shirts and pairs of jeans, but no pyjamas. Clothes weren’t normally needed when I spent the night with Steve now.

“You could always just move the rest of your stuff in here,” he said casually, and my train of thought screeched to a grinding halt. “That way you’ll have all of your things here, easily accessible for mornings like these.”

I shook my head, sitting bolt upright, pulling the duvet with me so nobody got distracted. I stared at him with wide eyes.

“I mean you don’t have to,” he backtracked, pulling himself upright next to me. Taking my surprise for something negative. “It’s just, you spend most nights in here, you haven’t even been back to your apartment in four days and you only went up to get a book.”

“Are you…Are you asking me to move in with you?” I asked, wincing at how small and hopeful my voice sounded. Steve smiled softly, his thumb ghosting over my bottom lip.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Back in my day, it’d be a scandal if you moved in with me before I put a ring on your finger…” He took my left hand, lacing our fingers together. “But this ain’t my day anymore,” he said, his eyes wide and sincere. “Move in with me?”

“I’ll reorder your bookcase,” I warned and he just smiled.

“Okay.”

“We need to get more bookcases.”

“Okay.”

“I have fifty different lipsticks that will end up spread across the bathroom counter and they’re all red.”

“Okay.”

I bit my lip, hesitating slightly, a long list of undesirable things about me running through my mind that would make him change his mind, but I realised that Steve already knew about all of them. He knew about all of them… and he was still asking.

“Move in with me, Doll?” he asked again.

My eyes stung but I forced myself not to cry.

“You won’t get tired of me?” I found myself asking before I could stop myself.

“Never,” he promised, his voice filled with sincerity before he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

“Okay,” I breathed.

Steve’s face lit up with a bright grin and his blue eyes shone. He surged forwards, crashing his lips against mine in a hungry kiss. Twisting around, I dropped back against the mattress, moaning softly as Steve’s mouth moved along my jaw and down my neck.

“Wait, wait.” I giggled, pushing him back slightly and he frowned down at me in concern. “We can do that later,” I said. “I wanna move my stuff.”

Before he could protest, I shimmied out from underneath him and the covers. Not bothering to cover myself as I moved across the room, collecting last nights clothes, not even questioning why my shirt was on top of a lamp, the other side of the room.

Steve dropped face down on the bed with a slight groan and I couldn’t help but grin.

“C’mon,” I urged, tossing his jeans on top of his head, muffling his startled noise. “The quicker we move my stuff, the quicker we can go back to bed.”

“What happened to pyjama day?” he asked, pushing himself upright, letting his pants fall into his lap.

“To have a pyjama day you need pyjamas as _you_ pointed out. Help me get my pyjamas and because tomorrow is Sunday, we will stay in bed _all_ day,” I promised with a suggestive look.

It didn’t really mean much considering we didn’t really do much on a Sunday anyway. Bar an Assemble alarm we didn’t usually leave the apartment and if we did, we usually just went for a walk through Central Park or around Brooklyn. But Sundays were _out_ day to do what _we_ wanted uninterrupted, and as long as there was no emergency; everybody respected that.

Steve gave an exaggerated sigh, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, pulling his jeans straight on. I bit my lip, momentarily admiring the shirtless view in front of me before realising what he had done.

_He’d put his jeans straight on…_

_He wasn’t wearing anything under those jeans…_

_I could just reach down and—_

“I thought we were in a hurry,” Steve said, snapping me out of my daze with a shit-eating grin, his shirt now on as he pulled on his shoes.

I shook my head, pulling myself out of my stupor, not bothering to brush my hair, instead I just pulled it up into a messy ponytail to make it look less sexed.

I half-heartedly straightened the sheets on his—on our—bed, sliding my cell into my back pocket. We both went into the bathroom, having a quick wash before heading out. Taking the stairs up to my apartment, I stood in the doorway, looking around for a place to start.

“Jarvis?”

_“Yes, Miss Lewis?”_

“Is Clint around?” I asked curiously.

 _“He, Agent Romanoff and Doctor Foster are all in the Common Room,”_ he replied.

“Ask them to come and help me move stuff,” I requested and while Jarvis was relaying the message. I quickly grabbed a small-ish cardboard box, disappearing into my bedroom to empty one particular drawer, taping it shut before anyone else could get here. I grabbed a marker pen, scribbling _BEDROOM_ on the side before setting it aside.

Steve grabbed another box and started stacking boxes inside, a slight smirk on his lips as he realised what I was doing. He knew _exactly_ what was in that drawer. Hell, he’d used half of the stuff in that drawer.

 _“The three of them are on their way,”_ Jarvis announced. _“Sir would like to know if there is anything new you require?”_

I glanced at Steve who shrugged slightly.

“Bookcases please, that match the ones in Steve’s living room, lots of them,” I requested. “And a dressing table that matches the bedroom if you can get them?”

 _“Certainly,”_ Jarvis said, _“they’ll arrive tomorrow.”_

Between the five of us and Natasha’s meticulous organisation, everything was boxed up, labelled and stacked in Steve’s living room within three and a half hours, which was pretty damn impressive.

Clint ordered pizza’s from his “super-secret spectacular pizza store” that nobody except Natasha knew the location of. All I knew and cared about was that their pizza was fucking amazing.

I curled into Steve’s side, kicking my shoes off as I reached for another slice as Jane loaded up The Godfather.

Steve pressed a kiss to the top of my head, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

“I put _that_ box under our bed,” he said lowly, too quiet for anyone else to hear. With the mixture of his hot breath against my neck and the firm tone of promise in his voice made me shiver in anticipation. _“For later.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three guesses what was in the box ;) (Remember what I said about Steve being pretty kinky!)  
> 


	9. Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re staging an intervention,” Jane said bluntly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is something that's mentioned in the epilogue.  
> Post Steve and Natasha being reassigned, Pre S.H.I.E.L.D. take down.  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Nightmares, Sleep Deprivation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Self-doubt.  
>  **Edited:** 8th October 2017

**February 9 th, 2014. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.**

I woke with a terrified scream, scrambling desperately for Steve only to find cold sheets instead.

 _He’s not here._ I reminded myself. _He’s in DC._

I looked over at the clock with a slight sniffle.

_04:28… Two and a half hours sleep was better than last night at least._

Looking around the room, I sighed. It all just seemed so empty and cold.

Steve’s shield was no longer propped against the chest of drawers. There was no longer a sketchbook tossed casually on the couch. He just wasn’t here…

I tugged sharply on my hair and scrubbed my hands across my face.

_Pull yourself together, Darcy!_

Dragging myself out of bed, I pulled on a sports bra and one of Steve’s t-shirts. I grabbed a pair of sweatpants, not even bothering with shoes, I headed straight down to the gym.

Everybody said that using heavy equipment on less than eight hours sleep wasn’t safe. But I had hardly had eight hours sleep in the past _five_ days. Which probably would have been an issue even if I was a perfectly stable person.

But now, everything was heightened. I was constantly on edge; hypersensitive to every single noise that would just send me spiralling into a panic attack.

Once in the gym I got halfway through my warm-up before the doors slid open and I glanced over as Clint stepped in, he looked like he’d just dragged himself out of bed and I had no doubt that Jarvis had tattled on me… again.

He gave me a disapproving look but knew better than to argue with me, so instead, he just sunk down against the wall to watch me work.

After nearly an hour, my hits got sloppier and sloppier until I finally admitted defeat, stumbling across the room to sit next to him. Curling into his side, under his arm without a word to press my face into his hoodie as I started to shiver.

We sat there for a while. His fingers combing through my hair as I rested my head against his shoulder.

“Did Jarvis tattle?” I asked, my voice muffled by his hoodie.

“Mmm hmm,” he hummed and I sighed. “C’mon,” he said, nudging me slightly. “This floor’s not as comfy as it looks.”

“It doesn’t look comfy,” I muttered, letting him drag me to my feet before practically tucking me under his arm again so he could guide me into a semi-straight line out of the gym and into the elevator.

I was slightly surprised when the doors opened, revealing not mine, nor his floors, but the common area instead. Stepping out, I stopped short at the sight of Jane and Tony standing by the piano, two kit bags at their feet.

“Wha—”

“We’re staging an intervention,” Jane cut me off bluntly and my stomach dropped.

“Jane, I’m fine,” I said, sighing slightly as everybody saw how weak that lie really was.

“You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping, you’re not thinking,” she listed and I just sagged further into Clint’s side. “You and Clint are going to Washington for the week, you’re going to surprise Steve, he doesn’t know but Natasha is going to meet you at the Triskelion.”

“Okay,” I said with a soft sigh. _Maybe getting out of the tower would do me some good._

“Okay? Wow, I expected more of an argument,” Tony said then shrugged. “Quinjet’s fuelled and ready to go.”

“I packed your bag,” Jane said. “I think I got everything, and here are your sneakers.”

She dropped a pair of shoes at my feet, waiting as I stumbled to pull them on before fumbling with the straps of the bag she thrust at me as Clint just slung his own one over his shoulder.

After tight hugs from both scientists, they watched at the windows as Clint and I boarded the Quinjet and I curled up in the co-pilots seat as Clint took off. The half an hour flight passed in silence. I didn’t have the energy to hold a conversation and Clint was nice enough not to make me try.

I barely moved for the entire journey, just staring out at the passing country below. It wasn’t until we were touching down in the Triskelion hanger did I shift. Slowly unbuckling my seatbelt, stretching out with a yawn.

I stumbled back out of the seat, heading towards my bag.

“Here,” Clint said, and I just barely caught the hoodie he threw at me. It was my S.H.I.E.L.D. hoodie, with my initials on and all. Too tired to question how he got it, I just pulled it on; zipping it over the oversized shirt I was wearing. I pulled my phone out of my bra, shoving it in my pocket before snatching my bag off of the shelf waiting as Clint lowered the ramp.

Despite how tired I was, I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Natasha waiting at the bottom.

“Oh, Малютка,” she sighed as I came to stand in front of her. She brushed her knuckle across my cheek before pulling me into a tight hug.

“Я сильно скучал по тебе!” I said with a sniffle, burying my face in her shoulder, clutching her tighter. _I missed you so much!_

“Я скучал по тебе тоже,” she replied softly, her fingers combing through my tangled hair. _I missed you too._

After several minutes, I pulled away, not protesting as she kept an arm around my waist.

“Car’s this way,” she said, nodding for us to follow. We walked across the garage, barely paying attention to the weird looks we got before we reached a S.H.I.E.L.D. SUV.

Nat tossed Clint the keys and he slid into the driver’s seat as I curled up in the back with Natasha, my head resting on her collarbone as she played with my hair.

As we got further and further away from the Triskelion, I started to chew my bottom lip as the anxiety started to kick in.

_What if he didn’t want to see me? What if surprising him would just annoy him? What if all of my issues just annoy him? I constantly had something wrong? I was so needy. Why couldn’t I just be—_

“Stop,” Natasha said sharply, her firm voice cutting through my thoughts.

“Sorry,” I mumbled sheepishly, glancing away as Clint’s eyes met mine through the rear-view mirror.

“He’s missed you,” she said, her voice softer but didn’t elaborate and I didn’t ask.

Nobody said anything for the rest of the journey, and when Clint parked at the curb we all climbed out and I took my bag with me.

Natasha let herself in the security door, because of course she had a key, and Clint and I followed her up the stairs to where she stopped outside Steve’s door; knocking loudly, not seeming to care about the late, or early hour.

I looked down, twisting my bag strap around my fingers tightly as the door opened.

“Nat wha—Darcy?” Steve breathed. At the sound of my name I chanced a glance up, and as he saw me his look of happy surprise faded into a frown. “Darcy…” he sighed sadly, pushing past Natasha, wrapping his arms around my waist, lifting me off of the floor.

I couldn’t help but whimper slightly as I melted into his arms, wrapping my own around his neck as I let the feelings of safety and of home wrap around me like a blanket.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Clint said, but neither of us answered.

Steve practically carried me inside and I kicked the door closed, letting my bag fall through my fingers to the floor, hoping that Jane hadn’t packed anything breakable. Steve’s arms shifted and I whined, clutching him tighter, not wanting to let go.

“Doll, hey, Sweetheart, let go for a second,” he murmured, setting my feet back on the ground as the hands on my waist pushed me back slightly.

Once he could see me, one hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb stroking across the dark circles under my eyes and he frowned.

“You told me you were okay,” he said softly, “and that you were sleeping okay.”

I sighed, pressing my face against his hand. “I’m sorry,” I said guiltily.

Steve shook his head, “We’ll talk about it in the morning,” he said, squeezing my waist slightly.

Reaching back up, I pressed my lips against his, melting into the kiss like we’d never been parted. His fingers drifted down my spine to curl around my ass and I moaned as his tongue brushed across my lip, he tasted like peppermint toothpaste and home.

After a moment I pulled back, pressing my forehead against his as I caught my breath.

“Hi,” I said, looking up at him with a slight giggle.

“Hi,” he replied with a soft grin.

I ducked my head down, pressing my face into his chest as I stifled a yawn.

“Alright,” Steve said sternly. “Bed.”

He swiped my bag off of the floor, his arm snaking back around my waist as he tugged me towards his bedroom. I stumbled out of my shoes as I went, not caring as I left them hazardously in the hall. As we stepped into the bedroom, Steve let go of me so I could pull my hoodie off, flopping straight down onto his unmade bed, groaning slightly as I sunk into the cushions.

“It’s like a marshmallow,” I mumbled, wrinkling my nose in discomfort.

“Tell me about it,” he said, setting my bag on a chair. “Where’s your charger?”

“I dunno; Jane packed. This was an intervention, I didn’t get a say,” I said, wincing as he paused halfway through plugging my phone into his own charger, looking over at me with a frown. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” he said with a look of pure disbelief as he set my phone down on the nightstand, before coming to stand next to me. Taking the hint I shifted over slightly so he could lay down next to me, pulling the covers over us as he drew me back against his chest; letting me rest my head over his heart.

“I missed you,” I murmured softly.

“I missed you too, Doll,” he replied, his fingers combing through my hair. “But we’re gonna talk when you wake up.” I opened my mouth to protest but he just squeezed me slightly tighter. “In the morning,” he repeated firmly and I sighed in defeat. “Now, go to sleep; you’re safe.”

“I love you, Stevie,” I tried to say, but my eyes were already closed and I was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations are by Google translate, please let me know if they're wrong.  
> Also, I reposted Part 2, go check it out if you haven't already?


	10. EDS - Elhers-Danlos Syndrome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So yeah, to summarise, I can dislocate literally everything including my ribs, I’m tired all of the time, I’m in pain most of the time, I bruise really easy and take forever to heal but on the plus side I’m probably as flexible as Natasha and have some great party tricks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so JellyFish72 pointed out that I hadn't actually named Darcy's disorder and I apologise for that. So this basically is just explaining in full Darcy's condition and how she lives with it.
> 
> Please bare in mind I live with this condition and have done since I was a child, so please just be polite and I won't mind answering any of your questions.
> 
> This is set _before_ Darcy and Steve start dating but _after_ she gets her leg so I've put it in between Chapters 15  & 16 of LiH.
> 
>  **Edited:** 9th October 2017

**November 16 th, 2012. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.**

I curled up on my bed, pressing my face further into my pillows as I tried to stifle a sob.

Just one of those days where everything hurts, the insomnia and the chronic fatigue are fighting against each other and all I can do is wait it out.

 _“Miss Lewis, I feel as if it’s pointless to ask if you’re okay. Instead, might I ask if there is anything I can do for you, or perhaps somebody I can get?”_ Jarvis asked and I sniffled slightly.

“Is Jane back yet?” I asked quietly.

 _“Doctor Foster and Thor are both still off world,”_ Jarvis said in a regretful tone. _“Captain Rogers, Doctor Ross, Sir and Miss Potts are the only people currently in the tower. Would you like me to call one of them for you?”_

Calling Tony or Pepper would be weird, they’re to parenty and would probably make a fuss. Betty, although I would class her as a friend, she is still a Doctor and would probably insist I go up to med-bay and the last thing I want right now is to be poked by Doctors.

“Where’s Steve?” I asked hesitantly.

_“Captain Rogers is currently in his apartment.”_

“Is he—Is he busy?”

 _“Captain Rogers says he is not particularly busy and would be happy to join you,”_ Jarvis said after a minute and I huffed.

_Of course, he actually had to let Steve know that I was asking._

“If he really doesn’t mind,” I said, worrying at my lip anxiously. It wasn’t often that people wanted to hang out with me while I was like this.

 _“He does not and is on his way,”_ Jarvis said.

“My doors unlocked,” I said, my voice small and timid as I dried my eyes.

Slowly I pushed myself up into a sitting position, wincing as my wrist and elbow simultaneously clicked, sending sharp pains up my arm. Slowly I rose up to my feet, hesitating so my head could settle. I pulled my blanket with me, wrapping around my shoulder as I limped over to my bedroom door, leaning heavily against the frame.

There was a soft knock on the door and I suddenly realised how stupid this was. The door handle twisted and it slowly opened and Steve’s head cautiously popped around the door. His eyes scanned the room and when his gaze finally settled on me; he frowned.

Stepping fully into my apartment, his shut the door softly behind him and he crossed the room in four long strides.

“Darcy? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked. Reaching out, he brushed my tears away with his thumb.

“I just—I’m sorry—Jane and Clint aren’t here and I—‘s just a bad day,” I said, my face crumpling. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, slowly drawing me into his arms. He held me for a minute before pulling away. “C’mon.” He guided me back into my room, lifting me up onto my bed with ease, wrapping my blanket more securely around my shoulders. Letting me practically crawl into his lap, he just held me tightly until my hiccupping sobs turned into quiet whimpers.

“Here,” he murmured, reaching away, he came back with the water bottle form my nightstand, pressing it gently to my lips.

I downed half the bottle before letting him take it away, reaching back to put it down.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, hesitantly resting my head against his chest.

“You don’t need to apologise,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear in a tender gesture. “But maybe an explanation?” he asked with such hesitancy like he wasn’t sure if it would offend me to question it.

I nodded, shifting slightly so I could look up him and then considered where the best place to start was.

“Do you know why they took my leg?” I asked softly.

He shook his head. “You said your knee dislocated but they don’t amputate for _just_ that…”

“You’re right,” I said. “They don’t. But I have a condition called Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, EDS for short. It’s a Chronic Illness and it’s considered a rare disease. That’s my current diagnosis anyway, I’ve had three before this. Putting it very basically, EDS is a genetic condition that stops my collagen from working properly, in my case, mostly anyway, it affects my connective tissue. I can dislocate all of my joints very easily and _have dislocated_ everything except from one of my hips, although it does sublux pretty often.

“It’s gotten better as I’ve gotten older, but when I was a teenager it was the worst. My left knee would dislocate every time I put any sort of pressure on it or bent it. So, they decided to operate, cut it open, tighten my ligaments, fix it. And they did. It worked for a while, I could walk, even run sometimes unaided, but one day I was dancing and it just gave way. I remember it hurting so bad… I thought I was going to die.

“They rushed me to the ER, did some x-rays, spoke to six different consultants and they realised that it was because of my surgery. That the surgery they gave me wasn’t suitable because of my EDS. They told me that there was nothing they could do because this was never going to get better. They sent me to physio but it became pretty clear that I’d never be able to walk without crutches again and so I didn’t. Three solid months of crutches, started to put pressure on my wrists and they’d shift out of place and so I was given a wheelchair.

“Eventually we came to the conclusion that I could keep my leg and potentially damage the rest of my body, never able to walk again. Or, they could amputate from above the knee and with physio and a prosthesis. I had a better chance of learning to walk again. So, my mom signed the papers, and a few weeks before my seventeenth birthday, I woke up without a leg.”

I took a steadying breath, running my fingers over the edge of the converter.

“After I got a prosthesis, I rebuilt muscle mass and _slowly_ everything else started to stabilize a bit better. I still dislocate joints easily, especially fingers and toes which is why I have to wear these constantly.” I waved my fingers, my ring splints glinting in the light on every joint on every finger and my thumb.

“They stop them hyperextending, which lowers the risk of dislocation when I write or type. I have two for my pinkie toes too. I still get the chronic pain, the stiffness. The delights of chronic fatigue _and_ insomnia. But I’ve been dealing with all of that since I was nine so… I’m used to it.” I shrugged slightly. “But sometimes… some days it all just gets a little bit much. Some days everything just hurts and I’m tired and…. Well… I either get really angry or become a sobbing mess.”

My lips quirked slightly. “On the plus side, I’m probably as flexible as Natasha and have some really great party tricks.”

Steve seemed to realise I was finished, and his lips rose into a soft smile. “I’m sorry that you have to deal with that,” he said.

“It’s not that—”

“Darcy, I lived with chronic illness before I got the serum. I got the fatigue and the pain all of the time. I know what that’s like and it’s gotta be even harder when you're surrounded by people like us who are beyond human health. You don’t ever have to apologise for having a bad day and wanting some comfort; even if you have an entire week of bad days, we’re not going to get tired of you or think any less of you for it,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

_They say that now… just wait until—_

“Don’t,” he said sharply as if knowing what I was thinking. “Don’t think about what might happen, or _has_ happened before. Don’t assume how we’re gonna react because you’ve never been here with us before. We don’t get tired of Clint because he’s deaf and sometimes we have to repeat ourselves; instead, we all learnt to sign so it’s easier for him. We don’t get tired of Tony because he has a heart condition, or because of his anxiety attacks; instead, we change our plans slightly so he isn’t put at risk, the same with Bruce when he get’s stressed.

“We’re not going to get annoyed at you because of your disability, _I promise,”_ he said, then hesitated. “Though, if you’re in the lab with Tony and dislocate something, he will probably freak out.”

I laughed slightly at the though, picturing the horrified look on Tony’s face and Steve groaned.

“Though that doesn’t mean to say, hurt yourself for entertainment value,” he added, a hint of almost a warning in his tone.

I just smiled, settling back against his chest as the TV turned itself on happy to lay in his arms with his fingers combing through my hair.

And so what if I got Captain America’d… again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really happy with the ending but I hope this makes everything a little bit clearer. To my fellow Spoonies I hope I'm doing this justice!  
> Some links below if you wanna read up on Darcy's condition or anything.  
> [What is EDS?](http://ehlers-danlos.com/what-is-eds/) (This is the official EDS site so there is tones of information on here).  
> [Metal Ring Splints.](http://www.edsringsplints.com/store/p431/hypermobility-splint/%22) (This is the best gallery pictures I have of them. But imagine these for each knuckle on your fingers, you can find loads more pictures on google. Also, you can get a lot of different types but these are the ones Darcy has, and she wears them on all of the joints on all of her fingers).  
> [ Thumb Splints. ](http://www.edsringsplints.com/store/p406/cmc/%22) (Yeah, these are pretty simular to the ones above. And the joy of metal ring splints is they look like jewellery!)  
> [Toe Splints.](http://www.edsringsplints.com/store/p500/toesplint/%22)  
> [Amputation with EDS.](http://www.chronicpainpartners.com/foot-amputation-offers-relief-and-hope-for-ehlers-danlos-syndrome-sufferer/)  
> The other thing that I don't think I mentioned in this chapter but will probably come up at some point is [The Spoon Theory.](http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/?utm_content=buffer37c4f&utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter.com&utm_campaign=buffer) I only found this a little while ago and I love it. It's an _amazing_ way of explaining chronic fatigue, and I'm kind of obsessed with it at the minute, so if Darcy starts talking about the lack of spoons this is why!
> 
> There is more information about EDS on [My Tumblr](http://purplepingupenguins.tumblr.com/) and you're more than welcome to ask me any questions about it. :)


	11. Bring Him Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whatever happens it’ll be his choice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning this is _horrendously_ short it's painful. But I could fit it into the actual chapter so here it is separate!   
>  This is set directly after chapter eight of SiL.

**April 8 th, 2014. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.**

“How bad is it really?” Chelsea asked quietly from where she was chopping up vegetables, tipping them into the pan. “I watched the press conference, but…”

“It’s bad,” I replied, my eyes scanning over Steve, Natasha and Malia who were playing out some story with the soft toys, making Malia squeal with delight.

“I saw those pictures, when we came in downstairs. Is it really him? Sergeant Barnes?” She queried.

“Yeah,” I said softly, hopefully too quiet for Steve to hear over the giggling child he was currently tickling.

“Mierda.” _Shit._

“Pretty much.” I nodded. “They put him through the worse things imaginable, and then some.”

“But you’re going to find him?” She asked. “You, Steve and Sam?”

“We have to bring him home,” I murmured, she smiled slightly.

“I’d expect nothing else,” She said, leaning over sprinkling a couple of herbs into the sauce I was stirring. “I think they did the right thing, releasing all of the files, it may not seem like it from here, but a lot of people respect the team a lot more now. They’ve read the teams files, and it’s helped make them seem more like real people rather than just names that are shown with pictures of destruction.”

“But for us it’s still just chaos,” Clint put it, turning back to us after shoving a tray in the oven to bake.

“Out of curiosity though, everybody’s files were released with all of their medical data. Why was your leg not in your file?” Chelsea asked, I smirked as Clint rolled his eyes.

“The former Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury knew, and so did his second in command, Maria, as well as everybody in this tower and I think one other Agent. But every time it would get added to my S.H.I.E.L.D. file, within minutes of it being there I would delete it, eventually S.H.I.E.L.D. just stopped adding it,” I explained. “It’s in my SI folder, and I think it’s in my Avengers Initiative one, those I trust more than I ever did S.H.I.E.L.D.

“I’m planning on letting it become public when Tony finally announces the completion of Stark Industries prosthetic project. But who knows, maybe it’ll be sooner than I expected what with Tony designing a new arm for Barnes.” I shrugged.

“What’s going to happen? When you find him?” She asked quietly.

I hesitated a second before replying. “I don’t know, if anyone’s gonna have PTSD it’s gonna be him. We don’t know what his mental state is going to be like when, _if_ we find him.” I shook my head slightly. “What they did to him… It was beyond horrific. He’s had all of his choices taken away from him. So when we find him. Whatever happens it’ll be his choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mierda - Shit - Spanish
> 
> Another snippet will be up before the weekend, maybe tomorrow if I have time.


	12. When Your Handler Comes Back From The Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We weren’t so lucky. We had to deal with the shit you left behind. We thought you were dead! I thought you were dead and that was my fault! You let me live with that for months!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself really sad after writing this!   
> But yeah, this is basically a 4 + 1 thing (I couldn't come up with 5) of how Clint and Natasha deal with Coulson being alive.  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Angst, Clint Feels, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Talking about Loki. Just general angst with a happy-ish ending.

  1. **April 3 rd, 2014. S.H.I.E.L.D. Facility, New York**



“Clint wait –” Darcy called out, I turned away from the vents with an irritated sigh.

“Darcy we don’t have time for –” I broke off at the look on her face, the fear that had been written across her face since the alarm sounded had now faded, replaced by a completely torn expression, that although I couldn’t quite read what it meant, it was obvious it wasn’t good. “What is it?” I asked, trying to sound a little more patient.

“There’s something you should know…” She hesitated, opening and closing her mouth several times as if trying to choose her next words carefully. “It’s Coulson.” She managed. “He’s alive.”

My eyes widened slightly, flinching slightly.

Of all the people that would crack a joke about Phil, Darcy was _the_ last person I’d ever expected, especially about him being alive. _Why would she say that? That isn’t fucking funny!_  

“This isn’t a time to joke.” I snapped. “Especially – especially about something like that,” My glare darkened as my voice cracked and I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat.

“It’s not a joke,” She defended weakly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I sort of… ran into him while I was in London, he was there, working with a team, his team I think. He made me swear not to tell any of you. When I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. I signed the forms just like you and I had no –”

 _“Enough!”_ My shout cut off her rambling before I could stop myself.

_He was… He is… But he was… They lied… All this time and I… I can’t…_

I whirled around, slamming my fist against a locker, leaving a decent fist sized dent in the metal.

I regretted the action instantly as Darcy made a terrified nose, taking several steps backwards in fear. _In fear of me. Fuck!_

Several tears dripped down her cheeks as she shook, her blue eyes wide and lost.

I turned away, forcing myself to take a deep breath.

 _Focus on your training!_ I winced as Phil’s voice shouted in my head.

_Focus!_

_Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two… one…_

I took two more, less shaky, more controlled, breaths. Reigning in my emotions, drawing my focus back to the mission.

“We need to move,” I said sharply.

She winced, fumbling to get a hold of herself she dried her face and nodded.

“Yes Sir,” She replied, struggling to keep her voice from shaking.

Turning back to the vent I pulled myself into the shaft with ease, before reaching back down, offering her my hand.

I crawled through the familiar passages, half aware that Darcy was still behind me as I drowned out the sounds of fighting below us.

_He was alive. He had to be. She wouldn’t have said he was if he wasn’t._

_You saw her face, she was telling the truth._

_She looked terrified, of me… She thinks I hate her. She thought I was going to hurt her…_

_She knew…_

_She’s known for months._

_When she came back from London different, we all thought it was because of Ian. But it was because she was lying to us._

_She wasn’t lying to us though! She just didn’t tell us, there’s a difference._

_You can’t be mad at her. She did exactly what you’ve done every day for the past twenty years. Kept things hidden because you trust the system._

_‘Trust the system’ look where that got us._

_This is his fault. He didn’t tell us. He put her in a shitty situation, he made her lie to us for the past several months rather than telling us himself._

_He knew how you’d react after his death, with Loki and everything._

_He knew you’d need him then more than ever._

_He knew that Natasha would need him_

_But he wasn’t there._

_He didn’t care._

_He let you deal with that on your own._

_This is his fault._

I came to a stop at the end of the system, looking down through the grate at the staircase below.

There were bodies and blood everywhere. People trying to get out of the building but their paths, their lives were cut short. Innocent people.

But all of them lay unmoving. It was clear enough.

I glanced back at Darcy, wincing slightly.

She’d chewed right through the skin on her bottom lip, blood stain had dripped down onto her chin and stained her top teeth.

_Deal with everything later. Right now, you’ve got a job to do and a Rookie to get out of the building._

“Watch my six,” I said, watching as her eyes widened, nodding more frantically than she probably intended.

“Copy that.”

.

  1. **April 4 th, 2014. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.**



As everyone dragged themselves towards the elevator I wanted nothing more than to follow them, to lock myself in my private gym and shoot arrow after arrow until the sun came up.

But I couldn’t.

Because Darcy, the girl who’d started off as a drinking partner had grown on me to be like the little sister I never got to have, sat staring blankly at the wall.

She felt like shit, and part of why was because of me. Because I fucked up and hurt her.

“You need more pain meds?” I asked, shifting closer to her.

“I’ll be fine.” She shook her head.

_Like hell she was. She took a bullet, her first bullet, less than twelve hours ago and has probably had no other pain killers since it was first treated._

“Darce, if you’re in pain then take the meds,” I said quietly. Her head whipped round to look up at me, her eyes glassy with a broken look that I hadn’t seen in her eyes in months.

“I – I –” She cut herself off, sniffling slightly. I watched as she forced herself to breath. “I’m sorry, I know how much Coulson meant to you, means to you, and I wish I’d told you. I never wanted to lie to any of you, but he said he was going to tell you, I didn’t think he’d leave it this long, I swear and I –”

“Darcy, stop!” I cut her off, not able to sit and watch her beat herself up. “ _I’m_ sorry.” Her eyes widened and she started to shake her head, but I carried on talking before she could protest. “I had no right to be mad at you like that. I _never_ should have lashed out. I know how S.H.I.E.L.D. works, I know how Coulson and Fury work. It’s them I’m pissed at, not you. The other’s will see that too,” I assured her.

She stared up at me with wide, guilt filled eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” She said, her voice weak and strained. I gave a small smile.

“I forgive you, Cookie.”

Darcy finally cracked at my words, she sobbed slightly at the nickname, slumping against me as sobs racked through her body.

Wrapping my arms around her, careful of her shoulder, I didn’t care that she was soaking my shirt. I just gently hushed her as she sobbed apologies over and over again.

“Steve’s gonna be alright ya know,” I said quietly, my fingers combing through her hair as her sobs turned to light hiccups. “Nat would have said if he wasn’t.

“I know.” She sniffed, her face still buried in my chest.

I shifted, pushing her away slightly so she’d sit up on her own.

She ducked her head, reaching up to dry her face with her sleeve, her face crumpling in pain as she used her injured arm.

“Here.” I reached for the black case Betty had left on the table, pulling out the vial of morphine and syringe. I filled the syringe but waited until Darcy held out her arm before pressing the needle into the crook of her elbow.

By the time I cleared the medkit away the drugs were already starting to kick in and she slumped down into my arms.

I shifted so that we were laying down, she curled up, resting her forehead over my heart as I pulled a blanket off the back of the couch over us, not that she even noticed.

“I punched him ya know?” She mumbled, her words slurred from exhaustion.

“Who?” I asked, looking down at her in confusion as Jarvis lowered the lights.

“Coulson.” She said. “Made ‘gent May smile.”

I chuckled slightly at the thought. I don't think I'd seen May smile since Bahrain.

“You made May smile?” I grinned. “I’m so proud.”

She looked up at me, her eyes barley open and managed a dopey smile before her eyes fell shut and she was out.

I sighed, pulling my hearing aids out, tossing them on the table dropping my head down on the cushion.

_Jesus, how long was this shit storm going to last?_

_._

  1. **April 6 th, 2014. Stark Penthouse, Washington DC.**



Natasha gripped her wrist tight enough to bruise and I tightened my fists, resisting the urge to reach out towards her, knowing it would only get an elbow in the side of my head.

“Excuse me,” She said sharply, disappearing into our room.

I let out a long breath, dropping my head against the back of the couch, running a hand across my face and back through my head before rising to my feet.

“It’s not your fault, Darcy,” I said, looking down at Darcy, guilt and shame were plastered across her face, when she made no indication of hearing me I sighed and carried on walking.

Without knocking I pushed open the door, sliding into the room, shutting the door behind me, leaning back against the wall.

Natasha’s head whipped around towards me, a dangerous glint in her eye.

“Get out,” She said, her Russian accent slipping into her voice, giving me a clear indication of how bad a state she was in. She ducked her head as she also realised this.

“No.” I said stubbornly, probably stupidly.

She whipped round and I dropped to the floor just in time to miss the blade that was no sticking out of the wall where my head was just seconds ago.

“Оставлять!” She snarled. _Leave!_

“I’m not leaving you like this,” I said quietly.

“Во имя любви Господа. Убирайся! Я не могу справиться с этим прямо сейчас! Мне нужно - мне нужно дышать,” She yelled, her voice stumbling before she broke off. _For the love of God. Get out! I cannot deal with this right now! I need to – I need to breathe._

She clutched the dresser tightly, taking several deep breaths, before she turned back to me, her eyes glassy.

“Я скомпрометирован,” She said, her voice barley above a whisper. _I’m compromised._

I stepped forwards, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, sinking to the floor, pulling her down with us.

“That makes two of us,” I murmured, clutching her tightly as she shook.

“He’s alive,” She breathed in disbelief.

“I know.”

“He’s been alive all of this time, he never said anything. He never came to us… after everything…” She trailed off.

“He let us think he was dead,” I finished tiredly, dropping my head back against the wall. “All those years at S.H.I.E.L.D… I really thought he cared,” I uttered, my eyes burning.

“He did,” She murmured softly, shifting to rest her head against my collar bone. Her voice was slightly desperate, like she was trying to convince herself as well as me. “I know he did.”

“I want to hate him so much,” I said, wincing as my voice cracked. “I did for a while, I hated him for dying, for leaving me. But I’d just started to move on, but now… After everything, he’s been alive for over a year and he never thought to tell us, he got a new team, he put Darcy in a really shitty situation… God I want to hate him for all of that but… But I can’t… and I want to hate him for that too!”

I sniffed slightly, running my sleeve across my face.

I wanted to get out of this stuffy apartment, ideally I wanted to shoot something but that wasn’t possible in a million dollar penthouse, so I wanted to run and keep running until I couldn’t continue. But there was no way Natasha would leave the apartment like this without shooting somebody.

“Go,” She said, nudging my leg slightly. “I’m okay for now,” She lied. “But you’re not. Go.”

I smiled slightly, pressing my lips against her hair, holding her close for another second before sliding out from underneath her, pulling myself to my feet and heading out.

“I’m going for a run,” I said, leaning against the back of one of the couches, as Steve, Sam and Darcy looked up

“Is that safe?” Darcy asked, looking up at me in concern, before she realised what she said. “Never mind, I forgot who I was talking to for a minute.” She shook her head.

“No, you’re right,” Steve said. “None of us should go out alone. Between Hydra, ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents and the media, you should take backup.”

“Mind if I come, Man?” Sam asked. “I missed a run this morning sitting by this idiot’s hospital bed.” He gestured to Steve.

“Sure.” I shrugged slightly. “I’m not gonna hang back though,” I warned and Sam chuckled.

“I’d expect nothing less, gimme five?” He gestured to his shoes and I nodded, as he disappeared into his room to change.

I glanced back over at Nat and I’s room worriedly.

As much as she said she was, she wasn’t okay. She probably wouldn’t be for a while.

“We’ll keep an eye on her,” Steve said quietly and I nodded in appreciation.

“Just don’t let her know that you are,” I said. “Because she will have all our asses.”

.

  1. **April 10 th, 2014. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.**



_“S.H.I.E.L.D. Bus 616 is requesting permission to land.”_ Jarvis announced, throwing every chance of a peaceful day out of the window.

I shot bolt upright from my place laying in the conversation pit.

_A S.H.I.E.L.D. jet?_

“Who’s piloting?” Nat asked, moving over to the windows, scanning the sky for sight of the plane.

_“Agent Melinda May. Her credentials check out.”_

Nat looked round at me with a raised eyebrow in question. _Didn’t Maria go with May?_

I nodded slightly, moving up the steps, half aware of Steve lifting Malia onto the piano stool next to me.

“Who else is on board?” Tony asked, stepping out of the elevator with Bruce, Thor and Sam.

_“Agents Phillip Coulson, Maria Hill, Antoine Triplett and Skye as well as Doctor Jemma Simmons.”_

_Phil._

My breath caught in my throat.

_He was here!_

I looked round to Tony, who turned to Steve.

“Let them land,” Steve said, his shoulders tense, a scowl etched upon his face as Darcy moved to stand next to him, looking nervous as hell.

_This was not going to go well._

Nat moved to stand next to me, watching as the plane spun and landed perfectly on the pad.

Tension filled the room as the ramp lowered and Maria led five mostly familiar people down the ramp.

My eyes found _him_ instantly and I tensed.

_It really was him._

_He really was alive._

_Walking, perfectly fine. The same exasperated smile that used to be directed at me or Nat was now directed down at the bright, brunette girl that practically bounced next to him._

My eyes flicked downwards as Nat’s hand drifted to the knife in her back pocket, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the handle.

The door opened automatically, letting the team step into the room.

 _He_ looked exhausted but unharmed. Not even a scratch. Still wearing the same stupid suit. That seemed to make everything worse.

_Why did he get to be okay when we weren’t?_

He came to a stop slightly in front of his team and his eyes met mine.

_Fuck!_

“Never got the van, huh?” Darcy said seemingly randomly, not caring for the tension around her.

The girl that was bouncing on the balls of her feet smiled slightly.

“I got the van, it got put in a S.H.I.E.L.D. storage facility last I saw of it…”  She hesitated, looking up at Coulson. “Shieldra Agents better not have broken my van.”

Coulson sighed, his eyes still locked on mine.

“I’m sure they haven’t,” He replied.

He sounded the same, tired, but the same.

I struggled to take a breath, clenching my fists tightly, my nails digging into the palms of my hands.

_Keep it together. Keep it together._

The ringing in my ears drowned out what they were saying. I was half aware of Darcy moving to hug the girl.

Nat dropped her hand off of her knife, the movement snapped me out of it as she took a step forward.

_Aw, Shit._

I realised what she was going to do a second too late, reaching for her arm but I was too slow, her sleeve slipped through my fingers as she stalked towards him.

Phil did nothing to defend himself as she grabbed the front of his jacket, pushing him backwards until his back slammed into the windows, pressing her arm into his throat, her other arm hung reached back, gripping the knife handle, as if debating whether to use it or not.

I took half a step forward but I was the only one who moved.

Maria ducked her head, in a sort of ‘I told you so’ way.

May raised an eyebrow and there was the hint of a smile on her lips.

She was Phil’s partner. How long had it taken him to tell her?

“Natasha,” Phil chocked, looking down at her, with wide eyes but still made no move to defend himself.

_He could get out of there twelve different ways if he wanted to. But he wasn’t… And Nat was making no indication that she was going to let him go._

“Nat,” I called out in a resigned tone.

_Sure he deserved it, but killing him would sort of defeat the point._

She made no indication that she’d even heard me, I bit the inside of my cheek in irritation.

“That’s enough Natasha,” Cap said, his voice hard, leaving no room for debate. Nat dropped her arm instantly, taking two steps backwards before turning and moving swiftly into the stairwell.

My shoulders sagged, looking up at Phil, still leaning back against the glass, looking a little rumpled but perfectly fine before I turned, following after Nat without a word.

_That went well._

**+1.  April 10 th, 2014. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.**

I took the stairs three at a time until I got to our floor, pushing open the doors roughly to get into our apartment where Nat was pacing backwards and forwards in front of the TV.

Her head snapped over, looking slightly dishevelled as she looked up at me as I shut the door softly, and I tried to ignore the tears dripping down my cheek.

“I can’t –” I broke off with a choked breath as my knees buckled. Nat vaulted over the back of the couch, catching my arm, sliding hers around my shoulders, helping me over to the couch. “I can’t breathe!” I managed, panic rising through my chest.

“Hey, Clint, look at me. Look at me!” I raised my head, as she clutched my hands tightly. “You’re safe. Nothing else matters, focus on now. You’re safe, I’m here. Take a breath.” Her voice was soft coaxing me to take one breath, then another. “That’s it. You’re okay.” She said, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, letting me sag against her, as she ran her fingers through my short hair.

 _“Agent Coulson is requesting entry. Would you like me to tell him leave?”_ Jarvis asked. Natasha opened her mouth to no doubt say yes but I shook my head, pulling away from her slightly, trying to scrub my face dry.

“No… I wanna… I _need_ to see him,” I said, the hesitated, looking to Nat. “If you’re okay with it?”

“Let him in Jarvis,” She said, standing up, turning to face the door, but keeping her hand firmly on my shoulder as I buried my face in my hands.

I tensed at the sound of the door being pushed open, and familiar footsteps hit the tiled floor.

“I’m sorry.”

I winced at his words, they sounded sincere, like he actually meant them.

“It’s too late,” I snapped, pushing Nat’s hand away, spinning round to glare at him. He looked pretty crappy, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. “It’s too late to come here with your half assed apologies. It’s too late!” I roared. “It’s been over a year, you left! You got to move on. New team, new assignment.

“We weren’t so lucky. We had to deal with the shit you left behind. We thought you were dead! _I_ thought you were dead and that was my fault! You let me live with that for months!”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Natasha murmured from behind me.

“But it was!” I yelled, looking between the two of them desperately. “I was the one that lead the attack on the helicarrier. I was the one that gave them all the intel of S.H.I.E.L.D’s security systems. I was the one that sent someone to release Loki. I gave that order!

“And if I hadn’t – If I’d been stronger. He’d ‘ve never gotten out and – and he’d never stabbed you. This was my fault!” I practically sobbed, scrubbing away the treacherous tears that ran down my cheeks with no avail.

Phil shook his head.

“No Clint,” He breathed. “Loki had control of your mind, nothing you did while under his influence was your fault.” I felt myself shake my head as he stepped towards me, reaching out, resting his hand on my arm. “It wasn’t your fault.”

With those words I felt my already weakened resolve crumble.

Phil wrapped his arms around me and I sobbed at the familiar feeling as I sunk into his chest as sobs wracked my body.

“It’s not your fault,” He said.

Every time that Natasha, Nick, Steve, Kate, Darcy even Tony had told me the exact same words, they hadn’t meant anything but now, now that they came from _him_ it seemed to lift a great weight off of my shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**  
>  Оставлять! - Leave! - Russian  
> Во имя любви Господа. Убирайся! Я не могу справиться с этим прямо сейчас! Мне нужно - мне нужно дышать. - For the love of God. Get out! I cannot deal with this right now! I need to – I need to breathe. - Russian  
> Я скомпрометирован - I'm compromised - Russian


	13. Hardest Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I could get by on my own.  
>  I had to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **READ THESE CHAPTER WARNINGS. SERIOUSLY!**  
>  This chapter isn't vital to read for the main story. It's okay to skip it. It's just a combination of some of Darcy's roughest days. I, like a lot of people, was having a shit day yesterday and finally got around to finishing this.  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** The aftermath of rape. Child Molestation. Child Abuse. Panic Attack. Nightmares. PTSD. Family Can Be Shitty. Ableism. Internalised Ableism. Homophobic Slur. Childhood Cancer. Death of a Child. Grief.

**Aged 12.**

I sat in the bottom of the shower, sobs wracking my small frame as the water scalded my skin.

_Dirty. I’m so dirty. I need to be clean. I need to be clean._

I grabbed the washcloth, scrubbing at arms, til the skin burnt.

I sobbed as I looked down at my legs.

_Oh god there was blood! It hurt!_

I stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, and I managed to stumble out, wrapping a towel around my shaking body, feeling just as dirty as I did before.

Yanking a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt on, stumbling out of the bathroom, trying to be quiet as I practically ran into my bedroom.

I collapsed onto the floor, whining as pain shot through my middle.

I pressed myself as far into the corner as I could, I couldn’t stop the shaking and my eyes burnt but I didn’t… I wasn’t…

I’d gone past sad hours ago… The fear was still there but not panic… I just felt… Violated? Numb?

_What did he do to me? Who was he? He said that I was supposed to like it? That it was my fault? I don’t understand!_

I yanked at my hair, trying to feel something other than the agonizing numbness.

I looked out at my painfully bright, childish room and nausea rose in my stomach again.

_What now?_

.

I struggled in the sheets with a scream, shooting up in bed.

The door burst open, and Chelsea dropped onto the bed next to me.

“Hey, hey, Darcy! Darcy its Chelsea. It’s okay. It was just a dream, you’re okay,” She said softly, she reached out towards me and I flinched back, pulling my sleeves down to cover the hand shaped bruises on my wrists as I looked up at her, noticing Jake stood in the doorway, a blank look on his face.

“Jake, will you get us some hot chocolate please?” She asked, he nodded, staring at me for a minute before disappearing down the stairs. “You wanna tell me what that was about?” She turned back to me. Holding out her hand.

Hesitantly I took her hand but shook my head.

“Just a bad dream,” I mumbled, fiddling with her fingers. “Can I – Can I have a hug?” I asked, biting my lip nervously.

Chelsea gave me a soft smile, sliding next to me against the headboard, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, letting me lean against her side.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I’m not going to make you. But know that I’m here, you can talk to me,” She said, combing her fingers through the tangled mess of my hair.

“Te amo,” I mumbled, not lifting my head from her shoulder. _I love you._

“Te amo demasiado, hermana pequeña,” She murmured back. A single tear ran down my cheek at her words, somewhere deep inside of me a little flame of warmth flickered. _I love you too, little sister._

I looked up at the soft knock on the door, hastily trying to dry my face, looking up at Jake who was leaning against the doorframe, a tray of three mugs in his hand.

“Am I interrupting?” He asked, looking slightly hesitant. _Jake doesn’t do well with emotions._

“Nope, we were just deciding which Disney movie to watch,” Chelsea said, scooping me up into her lap with a heavy sigh making me giggle slightly as she shuffled over, making room for Jake to slide onto the bed, setting the tray on the floor, right before she dropped me into the space between them and moved over to my shelf.

“Just please not The Little Mermaid again,” He groaned.

“How about… Lilo and Stitch?” Chelsea asked, holding up the VHS, I smiled slightly, nodding as I snuggled against Jake’s chest, he scrunched up his nose but didn’t openly protest. “Lilo and Stitch it is then!”

She put the tape in the player and settled back on my other side as Jake passed out hot chocolates.

I didn’t make it to the end of the movie, I don’t think any of us did.

I fell asleep wrapped between two people I knew I could trust, I knew wouldn’t ever hurt me. Wrapped in the comfort of safety I slept peacefully.

.

Jean traipsed wearily through the house, stifling a yawn.

The house was weirdly quiet for nine in the morning, Jake wasn’t cooking breakfast… Darcy wasn’t asleep at the table, Chelsea wasn’t trying to coax her awake.

“Are they seriously still in bed?” Jean mumbled to herself, dropping her bag on the kitchen table, pulling herself up the stairs, moving to Jake’s door, hesitating as it stood a jar.

“Jake? Honey?” She pushed the door open, her face dropping in confusion at the sight of an unmade, empty bed.

Turning around she stepped up to Darcy’s door, pressing her ear against it, only for it to be met with silence.

Curiosity getting the better of her Jean turned the knob, pushing the door open. A surprised gasp escaping through her lips at the sight in front of her.

The three teenagers were curled up on Darcy’s queen sized bed, all fast asleep, Darcy wedged in the middle, the VCR whirring, the screen snowy as it reached the end of the tape.

Jean smiled softly. Jake rarely showed affection for anyone other than Chelsea, especially as he got older he drifted away from his sister, especially after their father left, he rarely showed her he cared, he rarely talked to her about anything emotion related.

Jean could see how they trio ended up in this position, Darcy had a nightmare and they came to comfort her.

It warmed her heart to see that despite how distant he was, he was still there for her when she needed him.

-

**Aged 16.**

I stepped out of the music store, walking towards the food court.

“Darcy Elizabeth!” I stopped dead, looking around for the source of the shout.

My heat dropped at the sight of my Nan practically running across the mall towards me, my uncle in tow.

“Hello Nan,” I said wearily, begging for this to be a pleasant conversation.

“How dare you?!” She spat, glaring up at me. I racked my brain for anything I’d done wrong. “After everything you’re father and our family has done for you, you think you have the right to cut him out of your life, because you don’t. He’s your father, you don’t get a say in the matter!

“And after everything he’s given you, was it not enough? You still think you had a right to more? You don’t steal from family!” She practically screamed. My train of thought stopped dead. _I did what now?_ “You’re a liar and a faggot and a thief! You lied about that man in the woods, you lie about your injury, you do it all for attention!”

I was fully aware of several people looking over at us in judgment as they walked past.

“Your father has done so much for you time and time again and he loves you greatly but you don’t care do you? You’re just like your brother. Ungrateful, lazy –”

“Don’t you dare talk about my brother like that!” I interrupted. “Jake is not any of those things –”

“It’s rude to interrupt,” My uncle interrupted. If I didn’t know better I would have scoffed. _And it’s rude to corner your sixteen year old niece in a shopping mall and scream at her about stuff you know nothing about._ “There’s no point in arguing about what we all know is right.”

“But I didn’t steal anything! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I protested, tears streaking down my face.

“More lies!” My nan practically screamed. “Don’t think you can call any of us again looking for favours or money because you won’t get anything!”

With another scathing look she turned on her heel and marched away, my uncle trailing after her.

I watched them turn into a shop and start browsing the shelves as if nothing had happened.

“Hey, Kid. Are you alright?” A young dark skinned man came closer to me but I stepped away from him. “My name's Luke. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He held his hands up. “Just wanna make sure you’re okay. That your… family didn’t totally knock you down.”

“I’m fine,” I sniffed, stepping back, I spun around and practically ran out of the mall.

I shrunk into my hoodie as I exited the mall, feeling as though everybody is staring at me.

One block over my knee twinged, two blocks over it wavered, I limped a third block before it buckled, I felt the shooting pain as my kneecap popped out of place.

I cried out in pain, dragging myself off the sidewalk to a nearby bench with broken sob, bracing myself before I pushed my knee cap back into it's correct position, stifling a sob.

_They hated me. My family hated me. They hated me so much they disowned me…_

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I wiped the back of my hand across my face, pulling it out of my pocket I looked down at the screen through bleary eyes.

_From Jake:  
You still at the mall? Chelsea wants me to pick you up, we’re having dinner with her dad tonight._

With shaking hands I pressed the green button, raising the Cell to my ear.

_“Darcy, a text would have done, where are you?”_

“I don’t know,” I whimpered slightly.

 _“Darcy, what’s wrong? Where are you?”_ He asked urgently.

“Can you come and pick me up?” I asked, my voice quiet. “My knee’s gone.”

 _“Of course, just tell me where you are,”_ He repeated.

“I’m – I’m three blocks from the mall, I tried to walk home –”

 Jake sighed on the other end of the line.

 _“I’ll bring your crutches and be there in five,_ don’t _try and go any further.”_

“Okay,” I sniffed. Jake cut the call and I curled up on the bench, keeping my left leg extended across the bench, resting my cheek on my right knee, letting tears stream freely down my cheeks as the familiar emptiness rose up inside of me.

**Aged 15.**

I slammed my fist against the wall with a frustrated sob.

_I don’t understand! Why doesn’t she care? Why doesn’t she do something?!_

Arguing with my Mom had almost become second nature by now.

Despite Dad and his family disowning me, arguing with my Mom always somehow seemed worse.

Even with my medical insurance we were broke.

Our phone, internet and TV had all been cut off and they were threatening to do the same with our electric if Mom didn’t pay the bill soon. But she couldn’t pay the bill because she had no money, and she had no money because she wouldn’t work.

_I don’t get it!_

She _could_ work. She was perfectly able to go out and get a full time job, but she just wouldn’t. She volunteered at a local Outdoor education centre, and she took extra hours there so she never had time for work.

No matter how I looked at it, I couldn’t understand why she did this, why she chose to live like this.

The house was a mess, the floor in the kitchen had a massive hole in, there were cracks on the bathroom wall, occasionally bits of plaster would fall off at random, most of Jake’s old room’s ceiling had been boarded over for water damage and Mom had to sleep on the couch because her room was full of old stuff that she refused to throw away and I hated it.

I hate everything about living here.

But she didn’t seem to care.

Time and time again she said she cared, she said she was trying her hardest.

But nothing ever changed.

She refused to accept any help and any time I mentioned anything she’d yell and try and guilt trip me.

And now it was all too much.

I slid down my bedroom door, pulling my knees up to my chest and sobbed.

_I’m alone._

I briefly thought of calling Jake and Chelsea, but they were in Washington and all I’d do is screw up their lives too.

That’s all I ever seemed to do, screw up people’s lives.

My parents, my brother, my family…

What was the point?

Somewhere deep down I knew I didn’t deserve this…

_But if you don’t deserve this why does it keep happening again and again?_

I was raped, I’d been diagnosed with PTSD, Anxiety, Depression and Insomnia, my father disowned me, my brother moved the other side of the country to get away from everything and he left me behind, my mother didn’t care what I did or didn’t do until she screamed at me that I’d done it all wrong.

What was the point?

They were talking about amputating my leg.

With that I lose my sports scholarship.

I can’t afford college.

Nobody will hire the mentally ill disabled girl.

What was the point of doing anything?

Maybe I was being unreasonable.

Maybe everyone really does have a good reason to hate me.

Maybe I am just that bad of a person.

Maybe they’d all be better off without me…

It’s not like I hadn’t thought about it.

Thought of the different ways I could do it.

There was the old blade out of a pencil sharpener in my jewellery box, there was a box of razor blades in the bathroom, there was rope in the garage… there was a bridge with a pretty steep drop not far from here…

I could do it…

This would all be over.

No more being a burden, they’d all be free of me.

I’d make their lives so much easier.

I wouldn’t be in pain anymore…

Win-win situation really.

But was it…

I looked up at the pictures blue-tacked to my bedroom wall.

My friends at a picnic, Jake, Chelsea and I messing around in a photo-booth, Clara’s last school photo.

_Clara…_

Amazing Clara who never made it to her ninth birthday. Whose entire life was taken from her against her will. Clara who loved life, despite her illness. Clara who went out of her way to never let her loved ones be sad. Clara who despite being closer to Jake and Rose’s age never pushed me aside, she always took time to stay with me, to talk with me. She was the first person to make me feel special…

She wanted so badly to live.

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

How could I give up my life because I was angry?

I thought this was pain?

I’m twice the age she ever was, I should be able to deal with this.

I’m being so selfish.

I can’t give up what she craved so much for.

Even if everybody else wanted me gone, even if I wanted myself to be gone… She never did. She never saw the train wreck that my life became.

She wouldn’t want me gone.

_Even if you don’t do this for yourself, Darcy. Get up off your ass and do it for her!_

_._

And I did.

\--

**Aged 16.**

I curled up in on myself tightly, glaring darkly at my wheelchair and pair of crutches the other side of my room.

Too tired to pull myself out of bed.

 _Is this really just_ another _shit day or was this just going to be my life now?_

No dance.

No kickboxing.

I can’t walk.

I can hardly even get out of bed.

I was officially no longer a student.

I’d left _another_ school.

Proving my family right once again.

I just disappointed everyone.

My Mom, Jake and Chelsea didn’t say anything. But I could tell, the way they looked at me, the pity filled glances as I got frustrated.

The way Jake and Chelsea disappeared as Mom and I started _another_ argument.

How Dad tried to contact me, I’d talk to him for a few weeks, just starting to get hopeful that I could have a normal relationship with him, before his family says something about me and he makes no move to defend me. Or he himself says something, through bigotry or ignorance I don’t know. All I know is that it hurts like hell and I can’t keep doing it.

I can’t keep doing any of it.

I don’t know what to do.

No qualifications.

No job.

No school.

No mobility.

No money.

I have nothing.

_How do people do this?_

_There are people out there with worse disabilities than you._

_Just get up! You’re being week!_

As much as I screamed at myself.

Hated myself.

Told myself tomorrow would be different.

Still the fatigue won.

Still I lay here.

\--

**Aged 17.**

Cold. It was so cold.

I wrapped the blanket around myself tighter, huddling against the cold brick wall behind me.

What did I ever do to deserve this?

How had this become my life?

Everything I hated. Everything I struggled with before. Losing my leg. Losing my Dad and family.

Nothing was as bad as this.

At least then I had a bed.

This. This was as low as it got.

It was October.

I think.

It’s not like I had an accurate way of telling the time, or keeping track of the days. Only when I could steal a newspaper.

Or somebody gave me a couple of dollars and I managed to buy a coffee and see a calendar in the small coffee shop, the elderly waitress would occasionally take pity on me and sneak me some food.

That’s all I was worth now. Pity.

The pitying glances of people walking by. If they even glanced at me.

Most of the time they didn’t look at me. At the people without.

It made them feel guilty.

God forbid they feel guilty.

My mind drifted briefly to Jake and Chelsea, they’d be so furious with me.

 _They’d_ want to help me. I had to believe that. I had to believe that they wouldn’t want me to live like this. If I didn’t believe it I’d probably go insane.

But Jake was in Afghanistan at the minute. He left a week before I was evicted. Chelsea was studying and working. All I’d do is inconvenience her.

I couldn’t do that to them.

They got out of this town.

I couldn’t drag them back.

I could get by on my own.

I had to.

One day at a time.

There was no choice in the matter.

I was still under eighteen.

If I asked anyone for help they’d ship me off to some Group Home.

What would happen to my Mom?

She was stuck in a hospital, her insurance covering all of _her_ medical bills.

There was that at least.

I curled my fingers into my sleeves, huddling closer to myself as a breeze rushed through the air.

Just had to get through the day.

Maybe tomorrow would be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm sending you all, all of the hugs. If any of you are struggling with whatever and want to talk.   
> I'm here.   
> I will listen.


	14. All I Ask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I’m not a damsel in distress._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is totally short and random, but the inspiration came and it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote this.  
> I have no idea when this is set, sometime after Darcy moves in with Steve, but before they find Bucky. Add it in where you want.  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Non graphic dislocations.

I threw my hairbrush across the room with a frustrated scream, it bounced harmlessly off the thankfully reinforced window before falling to the floor.

“Darcy?” Steve stuck his head around the bedroom door, concern etched across his face.

“Sorry,” I grumbled, biting my lip as I pressed my knuckle, pulling it out to pop it back in place, carefully flexing my arm, starting at my fingers before working my way to my wrist, elbow and shoulder.

He moved up next to me, crouching down to gently take my arm, inspecting my swollen hand and wrist, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my wrist, careful not to touch the aggravated joints, before he rose to his feet.

“I’ll get you some ice,” He said, kissing my forehead softly before disappearing back into the Living Room, I heard the faint sound of the freezer opening and closing before he came back in; wrapping a familiar blue icepack in a tea towel.

“Thank you,” I said softly, taking it with a grateful smile, wrapping it around my hand.

He didn’t say anything, just turned away and picked up my discarded hairbrush, moving to the couch, patting the seat next to him pointedly.

I smiled slightly, moving to sit next to him, twisting round so he was behind me, he shifted slightly so his knee’s where against my back in a strangely comforting gesture before he started to brush out my damp hair.

Expertly splitting it into sections, before brushing it out, starting at the bottom, working his way up, apologising softly whenever he got to a particularly bad knot.

Even when all of the knots were brushed out he continued to run the brush through and I against my will I leant back into the pressure, finally done, he sectioned my hair into three sections, easily braiding it, letting the plate fall down my back.

Steve shifted, tugging my back to lay back against his chest so I was sitting between his legs, he pressed his lips to the back of my head, wrapping his arms around me.

“How’s your arm?” He asked softly.

I pulled the icepack off my hand, inspecting the swelling that had eased up, carefully flexing my fingers.

“It’ll be fine,” I said with a slight shrug. Steve’s arms tightened momentarily.

“I didn’t ask how it _will_ be,” He said sternly. “I asked how it _is.”_

I ducked my head to hide my slight smile.

“It’s sore,” I said truthfully. I felt Steve smile against the top of my head, I shifted round to curl up against his chest, practically sat on his lap.

“Ask for help,” He said quietly. “Next time you can ask for help. There’s nothing wrong with needing help. I don’t mind.”

“I know, but I _can_ do it on my own though,” I said, looking up at him.

_I’m not a damsel in distress._

To my surprise Steve smiled.

“I know,” He said. “But the thing is, you don’t have too.”

I hesitated slightly, before smiling.

“I’ll try,” I said honestly, giggling as he kissed the tip of my nose.

“That’s all I ask.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, totally short and random, but I kinda like it. 
> 
> Also, slightly spoilery, I LOVE writing Bucky with Malia and a puppy, it's the most adorable thing ever!! ;)


	15. All You've Got

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ah! Fuck you Barnes!” 
> 
> “Anytime, Sweetheart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is in regard to Bucky's comment in Chapter 9 of LiS about talking to Peggy. Also, I just wanted to write some Peggy x Bucky because I think their relationship is underrated.  
>  **Chapter Warnings: **Gunshot Wound. Peggy's slightly drunk.****

**May 12 th, 1944. The Middle of A Forest, Somewhere in France.**

Peggy bit her lip to stifle a whimper of pain, the world drifting in and out of focus, only the searing pain in her shoulder reminding her of where she was.

“Come on Carter! Stay with me here,” Bucky said roughly, cutting her shirt off her shoulder, trying to keep pressure on the wounds.

Tipping some of Dum-Dum’s scotch on her shoulder, making her hiss as it burnt.

“I don’t feel so good,” She murmured sluggishly.

Bucky scoffed slightly.

“There’s a surprise.” He pressed a bottle of scotch into her good hand. “Drink this. You’ve been shot Carter, twice. It’s not supposed to feel good.”

She took a swig of the scotch.

“’re you qualified for this?” She asked, her words slurring as she tried to keep awake.

“If you can find a nurse around here then they’re welcome to take over. If not, I’m all you’ve got,” Bucky said, inspecting the back of her shoulder closely, keeping one hand on her back so she stay sitting upright. He grimaced. “One of the bullets went straight through, the others still in your shoulder. I ain’t got no morphine, Carter. This is gonna be a bitch.”

“It already is,” She said, taking another swig of scotch, gripping the bottle tightly. “Where’s Steve ‘nd the others?”

“Still fighting. You went down, I got you out. We’re ‘bout a half mile away, so try not to scream too loudly,” He advised.

“I’m not gonna –” She broke off with a strangled scream as Bucky pressed into the wound, pulling the bullet out as quickly as he could.

She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle her sobs, and to try and stop the wave of violent nausea that rolled through her stomach.

“Ah! Fuck you Barnes!” She spat, taking another swig of scotch.

Bucky chuckled slightly.

“Anytime, Sweetheart,” He said.

Peggy smiled slightly, her eyes drifting shut before she could formulate an answer.

“Carter? Shit! C’mon Peggy, stay with me!”

Careful to keep pressure on her back, he awkwardly moved around her, cupping her cheek as her head lolled to the side.

“Carter!” He barked.

Peggy’s head jerked upright and her eyes opened blearily.

“Bloody hell, no need to shout Sarge,” She mumbled, her words slurred together.

“Stay awake then,” He ordered.

She somehow managed to roll his eyes.

“Sir, yes Sir,” She muttered sarcastically.

Bucky moved back behind her and with practised hands stitched up the three wounds, wrapping her shoulder with expert ease with a simple field bandage.

“I sorta broke your shirt Carter, you might wanna take it off,” He advised, digging through her kitbag for a spare.

“You’re gonna have to work a little harder than that to get me out of my clothes,” She said, despite the fact that she was pulling her shirt off with a grimace.

“Sure Carter,” He snorted then hesitated slightly.

 _Was that an invitation to try?_ He thought, then shook it away. _Nah, she was into Stevie. Just Stevie._

Personally he didn’t see the big issue, it’s not like she wasn’t wearing anything under her shirt.

“Here.” He held out a fresh shirt, she took it and looked down then glanced over at her open kit back. “Don’t you have a brother Carter?” He teased as she begrudgingly let him help her put the shirt on, followed by a jumper and her coat.

He missed the flash of hurt that crossed her face briefly.

“Not anymore,” She snapped, her voice slightly harsher than intended.

Bucky faltered slightly.

“Sorry,” He muttered.

She took another swig of whiskey as he looped a sling around her neck.

“You didn’t kill him.” She gave a one shouldered shrug, taking another drink, letting herself drift with a slightly giddy smile. “Besides, Howard ‘nd the others are like my brothers. Not you or Steve though, that’d be weird.”

Bucky’s fingers faltered on the reef knot.

“You tryna tell me you’re sweet on me, Carter?” He asked, frowning when he got no response. He moved back around in front of her, her head dropped to the side as she snored softly. “Lightweight,” He chuckled, prying the bottle from her fingers, with one hand, trying to keep her upright with the other.

He set the bottle aside before carefully scooping her up, confirming that she was well and truly asleep, because if she hadn’t been, she probably would have punched Bucky by now.

Trying not to jostle her too much he gently laid her down in the back of the truck, scrunching up his jacket to lay under her head, laying her blanket over her.

Leaving her revolver next to her head he dropped back off the truck, quickly clearing up the blood splattered rags, putting the top back on Dum-Dum’s bottle, shoving it in the med bag.

Doing one last sweep he headed back to the truck, climbing in the back.

He sat at Peggy’s feet, his back against the wooden panels, his gun resting on his lap to take watch until Stevie returned.

Peggy Carter was certainly something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Choose between Stucky or Steggy? Nah, just ship World War Threesome!


	16. Two Years On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _Staff Sergeant Jacob T. Lewis_  
>  September 28th 1981 – October 16th 2012  
> A Brother. A Partner. A Father.  
> Always Loved. Forever Remembered.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first snippet in forever. I'm sorry, I'm working on them.

**October 17 th 2014\. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.**

I blinked my eyes open, staring at the ceiling blankly.

Two years.

Two years without Jake.

I heard the door open but didn’t bother moving until Steve came around the bottom of the bed, sitting next to me, setting a mug of coffee on the nightstand.

“Morning, Doll,” He murmured with a sympathetic smile, he reached out brushing a strand of my hair back.

“Morning,” I said, my voice strained.

“Clint’s here, he wants you to go up for breakfast. But if you want to stay in bed I can tell him no?” He asked.

I nodded. “I wanna stay here,” I murmured.

He nodded, leaning down to kiss my forehead softly.

“I’ll go tell him, if you need anything shout,” He said, I managed a small tight smile before he stood up and I heard him leave.

I rolled over onto my side with a groan, my fingers coming up to tug on the two sets of dog tags that hung around my neck, I’d put Jake’s back on last night.

Reaching for my phone I opened up the pictures, scrolling through my folder labelled _Family_. Most of them were of Malia and Chelsea, but there were loads of Jake, some of Mike, some of Mom and Clara.

I sobbed slightly at the one of Jake and Chelsea the day Jake finished his Basic Training, their arms around each other, eyes only for each other, so in love; he was so young.

I wiped my eyes quickly as I heard the door open, locking my phone, but before I could look round to tell Steve I was fine, a weight hit the bed and there were two paws on me, pulling me to lay on my back, Bear sniffed at my face, licking at my already damp cheeks.

“What the – Bear, don’t. I’m fine, unten,” I said, pushing myself to sit up as Bear lay across my legs, looking up at me with worried eyes. _Down._

I wiped my face with the end of my sleeve looking over to Bucky who was leaning against the closed door, frowning at me.

“Your dog is out of control,” I grumbled, making him smirk.

“Nah, he does exactly what he was told to do.” Without invitation he moved up to the bed, petting Bear, murmuring soft praise in German.

“Why is he on top of me then?” I asked, only half disapproving as I brushed my fingers across his back.

_Damn therapy dogs._

“Because Stevie told me ‘nd Clint that you are planning on staying in bed,” He said, I looked up at him in confusion.

“I am,” I said.

“No you’re not,” He said matter of factly.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not staying in bed all day. None of you lot let me lounge around in bed all day when I’m feeling shitty, and if me, of all people, isn’t allowed to lay in bed when I’m having a shitty day, then you’re not either,” He said. “Up.” He yanked away my duvet, snatching up my phone, holding it out of my reach.

“Bucky, what the fuck?!” I exclaimed, trying to snatch it back, but he pushed himself to his feet, sliding my phone into his back pocket, taking my coffee off the nightstand, he took a sip and grimaced at the amount of sugar it contained. “I’m seriously not in the mood to deal with you being a shit Barnes,” I said with a dark glare.

He smirked from where he stood at the foot of the bed.

“Get up and I won’t be a shit then,” he said, ducking easily to the side as I threw a pillow at him. “Missed.”

Bear nuzzled at my side pointedly and I pushed myself up with an aggravated sigh.

“Fucking hell. I’m up, are you both happy now?” I snapped, reaching for my coffee that Bucky pulled further out of my reach.

“Nope, you can get this back when you come out after you’re dressed,” he said walking back towards the door. “Bleibe, Bear.” Bear dropped back down onto the bed as Bucky stepped out, shutting the door behind him.

“Fuck you, Barnes!” I yelled after him.

“Anytime you want, Кукла,” he called back.

I dropped back onto the mattress with a sigh, scratching behind Bear’s ear for a minute, with another sigh I tugged on the dog tags sharply and pushed myself up.

I took a quick shower, not bothering to wash my hair before dressing in a pair of jeans and an oversized beige sweater, I set all my splints in place before resting my hand on the door.

Bear leapt off the bed to stand at my side as I took a steadying breath before pulling the door open.

I shrunk into my sweater as I stepped into the living area, Bucky was the first to look up, he smiled at the sight of me, sliding off of his stool he stepped towards me, pressing my mug of still hot coffee into my hands.

His hands lingered over mine for a minute longer than necessary.

“Thank you,” I murmured, half wanting to go back to bed and half glad that I was up.

He squeezed my fingers slightly before letting go, stepping back to scratch Bear’s head. “Anytime, Кукла.”

I turned to Steve and Clint with a forced laugh. “Apparently I’m getting up for breakfast,” I said.

“Good,” Clint said, slinging his arm around my shoulders. “Because I’m starving and you took forever.”

“I’m so terribly sorry about that,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes sarcastically, but I couldn’t help but lean into his touch slightly.

“We’re gonna go for a run with Bear,” Steve said, tucking his phone in his jacket pocket. “Save us some breakfast?”

“Depends if Thor’s up,” I said, tilting my head back to kiss him softly, he pulled away with a look that was tinted with worry. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he murmured, before stepping away.

“C’mon.” Clint pulled me towards the door. “Breakfast,” he said. “People are waiting.”

With a last smile at Steve and Bucky I let Clint steer me out of the apartment into the elevator.

I tugged on the ends of my sleeves as the elevator stopped, and I came face a room full of people, I hesitated.

“You’re alright,” Clint murmured, rubbing circles on my back. “Take a breath.” I took a deep, almost painful, breath, clutching the side of Clint’s hoodie tightly. “That’s it. You good?” I nodded.

Stepping forwards into the dining room, the rest of the team looked up as if I hadn’t just been standing there.

Chelsea looked up from where she was sitting at the table, holding Malia close to her chest, despite the toddler’s protests. She rose to her feet, and Clint stepped away as she wrapped her arms around me tightly.

I wrapped one arm around her waist and curled the other around Malia, forcing myself to take, shuddering breaths.

“I know,” Chelsea murmured, her voice weak. “I know.”

She clutched me tighter for a moment before pulling away, guiding me closer to the table and I slid into the chair between her and Clint. Stabbing the chocolate chip pancake that Thor set in front of me with a fork.

A foot nudged at my shin and I glanced up, Natasha, who was sitting opposite me, gave a curt, very pointed, nod towards my plate.

I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but I was pretty sure it came across as more of a grimace, so I covered it up by shovelling a forkful of pancake into my mouth.

“I was thinking.” Chelsea’s voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I was thinking of going to visit Jake’s grave this morning. I didn’t get to go last year, Malia was poorly so we couldn't travel.” She looked up at me. “I – I haven’t been back since the funeral and Lia’s never been. I want you to come with me?”

I glanced away, something twisted in my gut and I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“I – I didn’t go last year,” I admitted, I could feel everybody’s eyes burning into me. Last year I went to London, last year I got drunk and got a new tattoo.

“I know,” Chelsea said softly, taking my hand on top of the table. “But, I think you should this time.”

I stared at our joined hands for a moment before sighing.

Staring at our joined hands for a moment I sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Darcy, maybe—”

“I said I don’t want to, Clint!” I snapped. I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth, I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, I counted to ten. When I opened them I tried not to look at Natasha’s hard look as I faced Clint. “I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sorry.” He nodded slightly at my apology. “I just don’t think I can. Excuse me.”

I pushed back from the table, walking swiftly towards the elevator, my eyes burning. I heard Chelsea say something and Clint calling my name but I paid no attention, crossing my arms as I waited for the elevator doors to open. I clenched my jaw, glaring towards the camera pointedly.

Jarvis was never this slow with the elevators.

Taking the hint, Jarvis opened the elevator doors.

“Darcy, wait!” Chelsea caught my arm as I stepped into the elevator, I stopped but didn’t turn around.

“Chelsea, please,” I begged, trying to ignore the tear that slid down my cheek.

Her hand slid from my elbow to take my hand tightly. “I think that you should come with us,” she said slowly. “Because I know that you miss him and this is as close as you’re going to get to him. Also, Malia is going to be asking questions and I could really use some backup.” The waver in her voice my guilt twist in my stomach. This isn’t just about me.

Clutching her fingers tightly, I turned to face her, my lip wavered at the sight of her tear stricken cheeks.

“I thought this was supposed to get easier,” I said. “Time heals all wounds and that shit.”

Chelsea gave a watery laugh, wrapping her arms around me and I let myself sink into the warmth of her chest. “Not this one I don’t think. Things can make it easier, but I don’t think anything can heal this one.”

I don’t know how long we stood there, my face buried in her shoulder. Faintly I registered footsteps coming closer, but I couldn’t bring myself to care until I heard Steve’s voice.

“Darcy?” He said softly.

Pulling away from Chelsea, I tried to dry my face before turning around, seeing two – well, three as Bear’s head poked around the elevator door – looks of identical worry.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“Bullshit,” Bucky scoffed without missing a beat.

I gave a humorous laugh. “Look who’s talking,” I muttered.

“Touché, Кукла.”

“I – erm – I was wondering if you would both come with us, to visit Jake’s grave?” I asked, tugging on the edges of my sleeves.

Steve reached out, gently taking my hand in his.

“Of course, Doll,” he said, with a soft smile, Bucky nodded next to him. I smiled gratefully.

“You too Clint,” I called out.

Clint stepped around the door, leaning against the edge of the elevator.

“For someone who never used to like being in elevators, you’ve spent an awful lot of time in this one today,” he said, then winked. “Of course I’ll come.”

I smiled softly. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

“So, I’m gonna run down to my apartment, to grab some shoes and stuff,” I said, looking to Chelsea. “I’ll meet you at the car in twenty?”

She smiled and nodded, stepping out of the elevator, as Steve, Bucky and Bear stepped in.

“Our floor please, Jarvis,” I requested. Jarvis didn’t answer verbally, but the doors closed and the lift started it’s decent.

“Are you alright, Sweetheart?” Steve asked, lacing his fingers with mine, squeezing my hand briefly.

“No,” I said honestly. “But, I think I will be.”

.

The car ride to Pennsylvania passed in near silence, the only sound was Malia talking happily to herself and occasionally someone would answer one of her questions.

Clint pulled the car up outside the cemetery and for a moment nobody moved, just stared out across the rows of headstones towards where Jake rested.

I glanced over Malia’s head to Chelsea, she gave a tight smile and nodded. In unison, we turned to reach for the door handles.

Chelsea and I lead the way down the narrow path, Malia walking in between us, holding both of our hands.

“Mamá, ¿qué es este lugar?” she asked softly. _Mom, what is this place?_

“Aquí es donde está Papá,” Chelsea replied. _This is where Daddy is._

Malia’s face scrunched up in confusion, she opened her mouth to question her Mom, but Chelsea stopped short, her eyes resting on Jake’s grave where someone was already crouching in front of it.

“Is that—?”

“Mike.” Chelsea smiled, leading us off the path, between two rows of headstones to Jake’s.

Mike glanced up as we approached, he gave a soft smile at the sight of us. Pushing himself up to his feet, he pulled Chelsea and I into his arms as Malia clutched his legs.

“Hey, Mikey,” I murmured, clutching the back of his jacket tightly for a moment before pulling away.

“Hey D," he said, his thumb brushing over my cheek, his other hand rested on Chelsea’s shoulder. “Chels.”

She smiled slightly.

At our feet, Malia whined at being ignored and Mike chuckled. “Some things never change,” he mused, taking her arms from around his legs, so he could crouch down. “Hey Lil’ Queen,” he said, bopping his finger on the tip of her nose, smiling as she giggled.

He rose back to his feet and I glanced back at Steve, Bucky and Clint.

“Mike, this is Bucky Barnes, Bucky this is Mike Peterson, he was Jake’s best friend, kinda like a second brother to me,” I introduced.

“It’s an honour to meet you Sergeant Barnes,” Mike said, Bucky nodded, reaching out to shake his hand.

“And that’s Bear,” Malia said, pointing at Bear excitably. “But you musn’t touch him unless Buckee says so.”

We all smiled at her serious look. Mike nodded. “Got it,” he said.

“Darce,” Steve said, holding out the bouquet of flowers we bought on the way here.

I took it with a soft smile of thanks, glancing at Chelsea, she nodded slightly. I knelt down in front of the headstone.

 _Staff Sergeant Jacob T. Lewis_  
September 28th 1981 – October 16th 2012  
A Brother. A Partner. A Father.  
Always Loved. Forever Remembered.

I brushed my fingers over the top of the white headstone.

“Ani mitgahahgahat eylecha, Ah,” I murmured. _I miss you, brother._

Brushing a tear away, I glanced round to Malia, holding out my hand towards her, beckoning her closer, she took my hand and Chelsea knelt on her other side.

“Here.” I passed the flowers in Malia’s hands, keeping one hand on them so that she didn’t drop them. “Why don’t you set them down here, for your Daddy?” I suggested.

Malia between me, the headstone and Chelsea in confusion before nodding, clumsily, with mine and Chelsea’s help, she lay the flowers at the bottom of the headstone.

“Daddy’s here?” Malia asked, looking to Chelsea, who with watery eyes nodded.

Despite what we’d tried to tell her, we still weren’t quite sure how much Malia understood about Jake’s death.

Malia frowned, but nodded slightly, leaning into her mother’s side with a soft “oh.”

We all spun around as someone cleared their throat, I found myself looking up at a young, awkward looking delivery guy, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said. “These are for Jacob Lewis’ grave.”

I glanced up at Mike, then at Chelsea, both of whom shook their heads in confusion.

“Who are they from?” I asked.

The delivery guy looked down at the card. “Uh, a Mr Paul Lewis?” he said.

I froze for a moment, clenching my jaw in anger I rolled to my feet.

_He couldn't be bothered to come himself. He just sent a cheap bouquet and a delivery boy._

“Take them back,” I said.

“Miss I er—”

“I said, take them back!” I snapped. The delivery guy glanced at Steve, Bucky and Clint, clearly recognising who they were. I snatched the card of the flowers, taking the pen from the delivery guys pocket I wrote:

 _RETURN TO SENDER!_  
_REGARDS, DARCY LEWIS_

I stuffed the card back on the bouquet, digging through my pocket whatever money I had, which happened to be a fifty dollar bill.

I tucked that, and the pen into the delivery guy’s pocket.

“Take them back,” I said, my voice quieter, but leaving no room for argument.

The guy looked back over at the two former Howling Commando’s and the Avenger, one of them must have given some sort of gesture because the guy turned back to me and nodded.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Agent Lewis,” he said before turning and walking away.

I let out a deep sigh, turning back to my family. “So, who’s up for pancakes? Clint’s buying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please correct me if my translations are wrong, I mostly rely on google translate! :)


	17. No Matter What

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love you too; no matter what.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know I said I would post this the next day, but in my defence, I subluxed my hip three days ago, thought I fixed it and today I realised the reason it still hurt was because it was half way out of it's socket and I've been walking around on it for days.

“Can I ask you a question?” Steve asked, sliding his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on top of my head.

I glanced up at his face in the reflection of the window, a small smile playing on my lips. “You just did,” I teased lightly, watching in amusement as he rolled his eyes. “But go on.”

“Is it better?” He asked. “When you come out, does it make it better?”

My eyes drifted back down to the city below, from this height I could barely make out the cars and smaller buildings in the darkness, just the lights.

“It is,” I replied after a moment. “Well, it depends on how people take it. It’s hard when someone has a problem, but over time your realise, that if they have a problem with who you are, then they aren’t worth being in your life. And when you make peace with that, it’s amazing. You don’t have to hide anymore. You’re not lying to other people. You’re not lying to yourself.” Even now, remembering the freedom that coming out bought me, still made me giddy. “Why do you ask?” I asked softly, letting my hands rest over his on my stomach, my thumb brushing over his wrist.

“This interview, in a couple of days… As a team we decided that we would be honest about everything. I don’t think I can do that, if I’m not honest about myself,” he said, my smile softened. “I spoke to Bucky, he said that he’s okay with me talking about our past relationship. He said he’s okay with coming out via my interview. I think – I think I might be okay with that too.”

I twisted in his arms to face him, one hand resting on his arm, the other reaching up to cup his face.

“Whatever you decide to do, we are all here for you,” I said. “But don’t do this because you think you _have_ to. Only do this, if this is what _you_ want. One hundred percent. If it is, they we’ll stand by you.”

Steve smiled, slightly, his blue eyes shone with emotion. Rising up on tiptoes I pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips, letting my forehead rest against his.

“I love you,” he murmured, so soft that I almost didn’t hear him.

My lips twitched. “I love you too; no matter what.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short but sweet. Hopefully.


	18. Clearing The Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Of course he didn’t, because it was you!” He yelled. “Don’t you get it, it was you. Everything about who he was, who he became was about you! Everything had to live up to his greatest creations standards. He loved you! He fucking loved –”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in Chapter 23 when Steve and Bucky go to talk to Tony.  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Internalized homophobia. Past Child Abuse. Homophobic slurs, Tony calls himself a slur.

**October 29 th 2014\. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.**

Steve and Bucky stepped out of the elevator and into Tony’s lab, stopping dead in the doorway, it looked as though someone, Tony no doubt, had cleared two of the desks, broken glass and jagged bits of metal were spread across the floor.

Bucky looked down at Bear.

“Bleibe,” He said. _Stay._

Bear whined but laid down obediently.

Steve and Bucky exchanged apprehensive looks before stepping into the lab.

A soft sniffle drew their attention to the couch, stepping behind it, they found Tony, leaning back against the wall, an empty, unused scotch glass sat on the floor at his feet, a smashed picture of Tony and Howard on some red carpet, lay to the side.

Tony looked up at the two Super Soldiers before looking away quickly, slamming his head against his knees, he scrubbed his face on the ends of his sleeves before he looked up at them.

“He was a bastard,” He said, his voice hoarse. “I knew that already. I came to terms with that when I was twelve.” He looked up at Steve. “The day I realised that was the day I started hating you.” He gave a bitter laugh. “He walked in on me with some boy at a Gala. I don’t even remember his name.”

Steve and Bucky exchanged slight looks of surprise before sitting down, leaning back against the back of the couch.

“I don’t remember ever seeing him that mad sober before. It was the only time I got to leave a Gala early. Mom didn’t comment, she never did. Jarvis, Edwin Jarvis, tried to talk to him on the way home, but he didn’t – he _wouldn’t_ budge. We got home and he was so pissed.

“I remember every word he said, about how he wouldn’t have a faggot for a son, that that isn’t who I should want to be. He said I should want to be more like Captain America,” Tony said in a mocking tone.

Steve looked away almost guiltily.

“All those times he was talking about me being such a fag –”

“Don’t,” Steve said sharply. “Don’t call yourself that.”

“Why? That’s what I am, isn’t it? That’s what we all are!” Tony shouted. “Being Bi was just another reason for him to hate me, for me to be not good enough. But you – he was okay with it as long as it was Captain America, Steve Rogers who could never have anything wrong with him ever.”

“I’m sorry Tony,” Steve said quietly, a hint of desperation in his voice as he tried to understand his late friend. “He wasn’t like that before, he knew about Buck and I, never did he comment on it like that.”

Tony laughed bitterly, looking away to try and hide his tears.

“Of course he didn’t, because it was _you!”_ He yelled. “Don’t you get it, it was you. Everything about who he was, who he became was about you! Everything had to live up to his greatest creations standards. He loved you! He fucking loved –”

Tony’s words broke off as he sobbed, he snatched the glass off the floor, hurling it into the wall, watching the shards of glass glisten in the light. He reached towards them but Steve slid forwards, pulling his hand away.

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmured, wrapping his arm around Tony’s shoulder. Tony tried to pull away for a moment before slumping against his side. “I’m so sorry Tony.”

Tony scrubbed at his face again giving a humourless laugh.

“Yeah,” He said bitterly. “That’s what Aunt Peggy said too.”

“My Dad never liked it either,” Bucky said, breaking the heavy silence, both Steve and Tony looked up at him in surprise. He gave a grim smile as he continued, “like Ma, and your Ma Steve, they all knew, Ma was pretty okay with it considering. After she walked in on us that time, she hugged me and told me that she still loved me. But Dad had an issue and, but he didn’t kick me out and I was just grateful, because it could’ve been worse.” He shook his head slightly.

“But it was your Ma, Steve. We were in the waiting room after you’d been rushed to hospital again. I remember she took my hand and smiled at me, ‘nd said. _‘I don’t care how you and my son love each other. I’m just glad you do. Not everyone will have that outlook and if they ever say anything. You must promise me that you won’t let it get to you, it won’t change you. You are who you are, you love who you love and you have to have pride in that, no matter what. Because if you don’t; then you let them win.”_ Bucky smiled slightly, his eyes lost in the memory for a moment before he looked back over at Steve with a slight shrug.

“I never knew that,” Steve said, his voice unusually small.

“I know,” Bucky said before looking back to Tony, “but she was right. No matter who Howard _was._ He was out of line, you can’t let that affect who you are. You can’t spend your life hiding, we have pride in who we are, we can’t let them take that too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... I kinda hate Howard.


	19. Representation Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I hope someday our relationships won’t be looked at with judgment and hate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter overlaps with chapter 23. But this one actually has a couple of the letters.

_Dear ~~Captain Rogers~~ Steve, you told me to call you Steve like you were any other person._

_Dear Steve,_

_I doubt you’ll ever even read this and if you do then I doubt you’ll remember me. We met in Central Park in late 2013, I think you were on a date with your girlfriend, Darcy. I was babysitting Sabrine and her little brother, you spoke to us for a while. Darcy taught Sabrine not to pay attention to the idiocy of “boys must be boys” (She still talks about that!)_

_Anyway, there is a reason behind this letter._

_I wanted to thank you._

_I come from a very strict Indian family, they’re very traditional and despite living in New York they can, unfortunately, be very closed minded._

_The thing is... I’m gay._

_I’ve known that I liked girls and not boys since I was nine years old, and I’ve spent the last 13 years hiding that part of me, convincing myself it wasn’t right, that I was broken. I dated guys and put myself in positions with them where I wasn’t comfortable._

_In the last few years I struggled with this more than ever. I’ve done things to myself that I’m not proud of. At one point I thought myself so broken that I thought about taking my own life._

_I saw your interview on the TV and I’ve never had anybody to look up to in media that was like me. There are few people on TV or in movies like us that get their happy ending. But seeing you, it gives me so much hope and I was amazed by the courage you had to sit on international television and come out._

_I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed your courage to accept who I am and I came out to my parents. It went about as well as can be expected, but I’m living with my sister now and despite losing the relationship with my parents and various other family members, not to mention my college fund, things are still better now._

_I no longer have to hide who I am. Who I love._

_I’m in a much better place now, and for the first time in my life I am focussing on my future, on what I want, not what my family wants._

_Thank Darcy for me? For helping to open both mine and Sabrine’s eyes on the fact that our Moms aren’t always right, and that “Boys will be boys” is a terrible, dangerous thing._

_My regards to Sergeant Barnes, I heard about his story, his struggle. My prayers are with him, after everything he’s been through he deserves peace, love and acceptance more than any of us._

_Thank you for helping me accept myself._

_Thank you for helping me come out._

_Thank you for saving my life. For if I hadn’t have watched that interview, I probably wouldn’t be here right now._

_With love and thanks,_

_Riya._

Attached to the letter was two pictures, the first was of Riya, Sabrine, Darcy and Steve in the park. He remembered the day, it was right after Darcy got offered the job at S.H.I.E.L.D.

The second picture was clearly of Sabrine and Riya, a much more recent photo, Riya’s arm around Sabrine’s shoulders, both of them grinning at the camera brightly.

Steve sniffed slightly, running the back of his hand across his eyes he reached for the next letter.

_Dear Captain Rogers,_

_Perhaps you’ll never read this, perhaps I’ll never send it. But if you are reading this and you doubt yourself. If you doubt a choice you made during a fight, if you’re second guessing your decision to come out. I need you to know that you’re wrong._

_You couldn’t have done anything better._

_You have made so much of a difference. Not only to my life, but to thousands of peoples, especially children’s lives around the world._

_You, Sergeant Barnes and Doctor Lewis have given us three amazing role models to look up to in our community._

_You’ve helped some of us accept who we are and you’ve helped some of our parents and families understand us better._

_Congratulations on coming out._

_I’m glad you’re finally starting to come to peace with who you are. I’m glad you’re able to have the relationship you want to have. I hope someday our relationships won’t be looked at with judgment and hate._

_You did our community proud._

_Thank you._

The letter wasn’t signed but it still hit pretty hard.

Steve took a shuddering breath.

_“I hope someday our relationships won’t be looked at with judgment and hate.”_

“Stevie?” Steve jumped in surprise at Bucky’s soft voice, hastily trying to dry his eyes. “Stevie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, I’m fine,” Steve said, wincing as his voice wavered.

“Don’t lie to me, Rogers,” Bucky said gruffly, leaning on the arm of the couch.

“Oooh, Rogers, someone’s in trouble,” Darcy teased, coming through the front door, tossing her bag on the dining room table. The teasing smirk, sliding off her face at the sight of the two soldiers. “Steve?”

“I was just reading these,” Steve admitted, tossing the second letter back onto the pile on the table. “This person said ‘I hope someday our relationships won’t be looked at with judgment and hate.’ Nothing’s changed. In the past seventy years, a lot of queer.” Darcy flinched slightly. “Sorry Doll, LGBT kids are still too terrified to come out to their parents, they’re still being killed for being who they are. They’re still the victims of so many hate crimes. It never changes!”

Tears trailed down Steve’s cheeks.

“Steve, Honey, _no.”_ Darcy dropped to her knees in front of him, reaching up to cup his face. “LGBT rights have come so, _so_ far in the last seventy years. No more Blue discharge, no more going to prison in most countries. It’s not perfect, Gods its’ far from it, but its progress Steve, every single day. Kids are seeing themselves more and more in the media, on TV, movies, in real life celebrities. It’s giving them the courage to speak up. The next generation is pushing society every single day. Our community is making progress!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that don't remember, Riya was in Chapter 40: A Walk In The Park of Life Is Hard.


	20. Disabled Isn't A Dirty Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Raising money,” I said absently, snatching the tablet back as I made some final adjustments to the page.
> 
> “You live in a skyscraper in Manhattan with a billionaire or two,” he said, “what do you need money for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the only chapter I will be posting until I've finished all of the edits and I will explain at the end.

**Early 2015. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.**

“What’re you doing?” Bucky asked lazily, reaching out to tilt my StarkPad towards him.

“Raising money,” I said absently, snatching the tablet back as I made some final adjustments to the page.

“You live in a skyscraper in Manhattan with a billionaire or two,” he said, “what do you need money for?”

“The money isn’t for me,” I said, glancing between Bucky and Steve, who was watching us curiously from where he was sitting at his desk. “It’s for an organisation called the Ehlers-Danlos Society. They research EDS and help people with EDS live stable lives but it’s a non-profit organisation so they need all the money that they can get, and trust me, _I know_ I live with billionaires and _I_ don’t need money. I’ve already donated a shit tonne, but this way it raises awareness and money at the same time.”

Steve hummed thoughtfully, stepping across the room to sit the other side of me, resting his chin on my shoulder. “How’re you doing it?” he asked.

“The same way most statements are made in the twenty-first century. Clothing,” I said, flicking my StarkPad back to the main page where it showed the sweatshirts.

“Disabled isn’t a dirty word,” Steve read, his lips quirking slightly. “It might take a little more than a sweater for people to believe you there, Doll.”

I hushed him with a wave of my hand and a roll of my eyes. “Baby steps, Stevie. Baby steps," I said. "As long as people stop using phrases like  _differently-abled_ then I would have accomplished something."

“Well, I think it’s a pretty swell idea,” Bucky said and I couldn’t help but smile at the use of the word _swell._ “Will you order me one? I don’t have money on a card.”

“Thank you,” I said. “And a credit card and yes. Pick.”

I handed Bucky the tablet, letting him pick out a style and colour before he passed it over to Steve who did the same then gave it back to me.

“There,” I declared as I went through the checkout. “Orders placed.”

“Are you putting it on social media?” Steve asked, sliding his phone out of his pocket, checking my twitter.

“Yeah, just my personal one though,” I said. “It’s already up.”

Steve nodded, retweeting my tweet, quoting it with a t-shirt and a heart emoji.

Turning his head he pressed a gentle kiss to my temple and Bucky squeezed my hand. My tablet started pinging on my lap and when I looked down, my smile softening as I saw that Clint, Tony, Sam and nearly a hundred other people had retweeted both mine and Steve’s tweet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very short but my friend has just started this very campaign and I could just totally picture Darcy doing the same.  
> So, you can buy "disabled isn't a dirty word" t-shirts and sweatshirts [here,](https://www.bonfire.com/disabled-isnt-a-dirty-word/) share the campaign on tumblr [ here ](http://purplepingupenguins.tumblr.com/post/166399511497/so-my-friend-and-i-have-set-up-a-campaign-to)and on twitter [ here](https://twitter.com/ellmers00/status/919264029209751553)  
> And you can find out more about the Ehlers-Danlos Society on their [website.](https://www.ehlers-danlos.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Good? Bad? Lemme know...
> 
> If there's a particular scene you want to see as a snippet, just let me know down below or send me an ask on Tumblr and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> Find me on [ Tumblr ](http://purplepingupenguins.tumblr.com/) and [ Pinterest ](https://www.pinterest.com/ToriTris/life-is-hard/)


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